


Parliamentarianism

by mindthebutterfly



Series: Burning Stars [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindthebutterfly/pseuds/mindthebutterfly
Summary: "Ultraviolet light can only be seen under the right circumstances..."On Parliament a treaty negotiation begins, a wedding takes place, and Doctor Bashir discovers that love is an addiction far worse than anything science could ever conceive.Notes: I am going to try and be a bit better about my descriptions. the bit in quotes is the summary for the whole series, basically, because I don't know how to change the summary for the series and have different descriptions for the different parts. You can even have summaries for each chapter! But not for the whole series.
Relationships: Beverly Crusher/Jean-Luc Picard, Data (Star Trek)/Original Female Character(s), Geordi La Forge/Original Female Character(s), Julian Bashir/Original Male Character(s), William Riker/Deanna Troi
Series: Burning Stars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582660
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue: Night Light

A thousand lights were glowing across the Andorian city of Laikan, casting a glow upon a silent pair crossing the icy metal bridges that spanned the deep chasm that separated the city from its primary power station and its various substations. Both moving forms were half camouflaged in white thermal clothing, neither seeming to be bothered by the brisk subfreezing temperature of twenty eight below zero, much warmer than the practically blistering negative fifty that had been the previous week’s average. Andoria’s cold temperature seemed balmy compared to the pair, who moved like white shadows towards the huge monolith of metal and electric light that was whirring and spinning internally but giving off only cheerless ice white light on the outside. A small, almost invisible hole in the wall of the farthest substation was their target, it was so small that maybe nobody had noticed in comparison to the huge structure and its vast array of substations. Certainly very few people would have even attempted the bone chilling cold on a day like this, let alone wanted to cross this icy, railless metal bridge in order to approach this obvious breach in the security of this particular power substation. The male of the pair gave the female a brief nod, covering his eyes protectively, and noting the lack of guards outside he motioned her to go ahead of him through the break in the wall. 

Their eyes met, violet to black, and she disappeared within, coming back moments later to indicate that it was clear and waving him inside.

The transformers were pulsing with light and throbbing with power, Andoria’s seemingly unending supply of geothermal energy giving them an endless supply of heat into their homes. How they had evolved here was a bit of a mystery, but they had, and had adapted, and survived here quite nicely. It was lost on the two humans, who were both so chilled and tired they found a quiet corner of the substation to break from their mission and pull their face masks off.

“I think I preferred the Talar asteroid,” Samuel Morgan joked, rubbing a gloved hand through his stubby white hair.

“We could go back,” Sala Gabriel teased, pulling a ration pack out of her snow jacket to break in half for them.

“I always complained about how cold my cell was, but I forgot how harsh Andoria is, even in summer...it was not my favorite place to visit. I’m sure that is why Admiral Novos must have chosen it…”

Sala looked at him with calculated fascination, something that he was learning quickly to recognize. He understood there was a bit of romanticism of meeting an older experienced Augment, but the physical attraction would always be present between them, the hormones would also be a match where they were concerned, where any of them were concerned. He chose to ignore her interest and nibbled on his cracker. “No cameras, no security. Andoria is either severely complacent, or just haven’t bothered with us yet. I shall assume its the former, they are rather deep in Federation space, and severely close to Earth…”

“Hmmm,” Sala chewed rather than spoke, and pulled out a PADD to examine, then handed it to him and swallowed. “If your calculations are correct, and I’ll assume they are, this should be the best place to introduce the replication sequence.”

Morgan took the PADD and looked at the spot indicated on the map. It was a beautiful code, and a beautiful idea, and he wouldn’t have been able to implement this if Sala hadn’t risked everything to steal an Andorian freighter for them. Their cloaked shuttle was severely low on fuel, but the cloaking device wasn’t compatible with the freighter so they had repowered the shuttle for this mission. If they didn’t get back to their beam out location by the mission’s end, they would be in serious trouble.

_We were in trouble when she stole that cloak to begin with. I’m surprised how far she was willing to go for Us. Well, she is one of Us now, she has certainly proven herself._

Steeling himself for the worse, he rose back to his feet and followed her off into the bright painful light of the power station.

He had been engineered with the ability to see at all light levels, including the invisible ultraviolet light, and infrared when he wanted, and thermal if he really put his mind to it. But it was paid for by him in pain, mind numbing migraines and sensitivity to intense fluorescent light, such as was found here.

_My first order of business after this mission is to get my old VISOR back, maybe update it with the new ideas I’ve been formulating..._

He chuckled as he remembered the highly advanced looking metal VISOR he had once worn, which he had given the nickname ‘beer bottle specs’, to his First Officer’s amusement. The Captain Morgan jokes had always been cracked when he introduced himself, he’d been generous with buying bottles of said drink as a gift when he was invited to parties, and had never drawn any suspicion as to the true nature of his overpowered spectacles, which allowed him to use his amazing gifts without drawing suspicion, people believed it was his ‘special vision device’ helping their ‘visually challenged’ Captain see. But they also had served the double duty of helping balance the light levels his eyes were receiving so he wouldn’t get those aching headaches. Most people had also assumed, often correctly, that his past life on a colony near the outskirts of Federation space had made him eccentric.

Genetic engineering _was_ practiced mostly by outer edge colonies, who could hide their activities by crossing out of Federation space to border worlds on the other side, and returning to law abiding colonies, who were not aware of the systematic genetic engineering that had been going on there in secret for, hell, hundreds of years.

_Too many of us really. If the Federation knew how much more we fight amongst ourselves, they wouldn’t be so afraid of us. We’ll kill one another before we take over anybody else...unless…_

The pair had come to a computer terminal pair that he decided would serve their needs, and the two of them began programming their code into the terminals.

“You are faster than me,” Morgan admitted, annoyed. “I need to get my hands back into shape…”

“You’ll bounce back,” Sala said, like she had been saying daily since the prison break over a month before.

The truth was, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t recovering more quickly from his sedentary prison life, assuming maybe that it was due to his previous nutritional deficiencies and lack of room to exercise. Sala’s blood had helped him repair his injuries, but his own genes were not regenerative, and ten years of damage could not be cured overnight, not even by regenerative blood. Not R1A type blood at any rate, which healed in one pass and then became inert. R2B- stayed in the system until the last blood cell had died naturally, sometimes months later.

Still, he wondered if he should just stop after this, finish his quixotic quest to regain the past and find a nice warm Risan beach to bum around on for a few easy weeks until he was bored and needed the adventure.

_An easy decision to make while freezing my tail off on Andoria. I hope this works...I certainly had enough time in prison to construct this code. Adapting it to Andoria was not an easy feat either, I have to give Sala credit; she understands the workings of security systems inside and out._

A baleful wind was blowing outside, a harsh contrast to the quiet beep that indicated the program had been uploaded.

“Here we are, the replication program should reproduce itself throughout Andoria’s power grid and take control.”

“How long estimate until we have full control?” Morgan queried, tapping at his console screen despondent.

“Fifteen hours.”

“I can wait, and maybe sleep a bit…”

“I’ll double check the perimeter, the computer suggested these stations are meant to be self-sustaining, so we should be safe to stay here for awhile.”

He severely hoped so. It was a very very short path down to hell from here, but at least hell would be _warm_.

\---------

Sala Gabriel lifted her head to observe the sleeping form of Samuel Morgan. He was trusting her to protect them both from danger, and she would, she knew she would. She had noticed her overwhelming need to meet his approval the moment she had beamed back to the shuttle with him from the Talarian prison, and tried to suppress her sudden desire to touch his skin. He wouldn’t appreciate it, and would probably be freaked out by it, most Augments knew this sort of attraction to be programmed into them, and to just ignore it. But she wasn’t sure it was this way for her.

At first she had indeed blamed, and cursed, her genetically engineered desire to reproduce, thinking that maybe she was finding a proper Augment at last and this had amplified her already normally high octane hormones. But more time passed and more and more she had become fascinated with this man, this absolute icon of a Starship Captain, his quiet sarcasm, his determination and drive, his willingness to overlook his own faults to get work done.

Samuel Morgan was also rather ill, she was certain, but from what she wasn’t certain. Nothing was coming up in her tricorder scans, so she was going to assume it was just the chronic state of undernourishment that had damaged him in some way. But in her head and heart she knew it had to be something worse than that, an unknown defect in his genetic code that maybe had not been revealed in the standard DNA tests. Maybe something more in depth was needed.

_But the Talarians did testing, they do fairly thorough testing as well._

His Federation personnel file after the capture had described him as overwhelmingly fit, he had been faking a visual impairment in order to hide his vision enhancements with a VISOR, an enhancement which had turned his eyes that alluring yet off putting shade of purple, and was capable of extreme strength and surviving falls from great heights, at least he had been before his capture.

_Ten years is a long time, I hope once he has achieved what he’s trying to accomplish he’ll take it easy and take care of his health._

No, she wasn’t happy about how quickly she had fallen under the spell of this man, but the beep from the computer indicating that the program had finished its work was enough to shake the spell she was under, if only for a moment, in order to rouse him to waking.

“The program is ready, would you like to do the honours?”

“In a moment, we need to be quick, Sala, we’ll only have ten minutes to get to our destination and off the planet before the back-ups jump online…”

She nodded, and began to prepare their side-to-side transport program to beam them over to their next destination, the very first nano second the viral program was activated. Morgan was picking up their supplies from the floor, wrapping himself back up in his thermal clothing, and picking up the last bits of the discarded packaging from their meals. No traces would be left, hopefully, not that this place was going to be in any condition to be studied in microscopic detail for DNA.

She handed him the now double paired remote, and he held it for a moment, making sure they were both standing, and ready, before hitting the very tactile button. Their transport beams sprung up into sparkling life around them as the power station behind them began to stutter, and jerk, and whirl slowly down into still silence.

\--------

Across Andoria city lights began to blink out, turbolifts began to shut down, trapping their occupants within, tube shuttles suddenly stuttered and settled onto the tracks in complaint. In industrial Laibok deep planetary drills stopped drilling and were silenced in their work. Computer terminals in the millions blinked off, security alarms and cameras stopped in their functions. A medical surgical suite in use suddenly shut down, sending the nurses into a panic and the doctor calmly ordered them to get emergency lights from the medbay stores, clamp the bleeders and wait for the backup generators and batteries to take over, before continuing his work. He worked quickly nonetheless, feeling with his bare hands for the skin he had been cutting and continuing to make his incision, by feel, by experience, and by instinct. Elsewhere, the Bajoran ambassador to Andoria was taking a rare hot bath on the cold planet, and cursed when the power suddenly cut out and he was left, wet and naked, in a quickly cooling tub of water

All over Andoria light was being lost, and for ten short minutes Andorians were left in aching and unapologetic darkness.


	2. The Songbird

“For millennia past, ship Captains have had the happy privilege of joining others in the union of marriage. Even more so a privilege when he is so joining two of his own officers...his friends…”

Captain Jean-Luc Picard smiled broadly at his second officer, who was looking nervous and on the edge of tears standing with Savil beside him, both of them looking sharp in their new dress uniforms, and the green and blue floral crown that Savil’s fellow Botanists had made for her from their prettiest Bolian roses. She had accepted the token thankfully.

“Do you, Data, take Savil, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish her as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

A truncated version of the ceremony was being performed in the _Enterprise E_ ’s lounge, which was crowded with people, being a tad smaller and longer than _Enterprise D_ ’s lounge, and it wasn’t the first time this lounge had been used for a wedding, but it certainly was unsuited to the number of people present. Whilst the length was the perfect shape for the Bride and Groom to walk down, there were so many friends from the other ships in orbit around Parliament who had been invited that they kind of were cramped in there together, not all of them with chairs. It would be less crowded at the reception down at the planet.

“Do you, Savil, take Data to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish him as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

She did not seem the least bit troubled by the human vows of emotional attachment. She was respecting Data’s need to have every human experience including a traditional Terran wedding. His part of their agreement was to return with her to Vulcan for the honeymoon, in order to confirm with the Vulcan spiritual leaders, and with her family, that they had indeed properly bonded. The pair would probably be staying for a few weeks with Savil’s mother at the Vulcan orphanage. Picard felt that Data was very very brave to agree to spend that much time on Vulcan with his new in-laws.

Data’s vows were as poetic as he was, and very poignant.

“I saw my future sitting alone, waiting for me to sit too. I did not hesitate to sit with her, to tell her what I feel, nor do I hesitate now. I love you, Savil, and I always will.”

Savil’s vows, in contrast, were almost too brief.

“I want to share the unknown and undiscovered future, learning and growing with you.”

Beverly Crusher’s eyes were bubbling over in time with Data, who finally started weeping at hearing her words.Troi and Geordi handed each person their ring to exchange.

“With the power vested in me by the United Federation of Planets I now pronounce you man and wife…” Picard then winked at Data, and he bent down to give his Vulcan wife a very chaste kiss, but it would be scandalous on Vulcan, he was sure of it, Barlcay was holo-recording the whole thing for them to send to everyone who could not be there.

Much applause followed the kiss, the throwing of flower petals, and the happy pair followed Picard to the bar where the registry PADD was waiting for them.

“Congratulations,” said Guinan. “Drinks are on the house.”

Picard had to chuckle, since Guinan had never charged for anything synthesized as long as he had known her, only the real stuff under the bar. Especially the Romulan ale that most people knew she had, but she pretended she didn’t when security personnel were in hearing distance. The beep of the PADD acknowledging Savil and Data had registered went through, along with Picard’s registration as the officiant, and soon followed by Geordi Laforge and Deanna Troi as witnesses.

“Well, I’d better get on the wire and let Parliament know the wedding party will be joining the Embassy, as soon as I change out of this thing, with your permission Data,” Picard straightened his dress uniform. “We’ll all be wearing these tomorrow for the Federation Ball _all night_.”

“Casual dress is the agreed upon choice for the reception,” Data assented, and turned back to accept more handshakes from friends.

“Which reminds me,” Picard quickly got everyone’s attention, simply by raising his voice. “Attention everyone! The reception will be moving down to the Embassy lounge, and Starfleet officers and their families from all four ships in orbit have been given an open invitation by the bride and groom to join us. But you are of course free to remain here in Guinan’s care if you prefer a more quiet place to celebrate.”

Everyone laughed a little and Guinan gave a smile, nodded her head in respectful acknowledgement of her name being spoken.

Picard quickly made his excuses and left the happy couple and their guests all planning their own outfit changes and transporter trips down to the Embassy’s larger and more spacious lounge for the reception. The Federation Ball, in huge contrast, would be thrown in Celebration Hall in the center of the capitol city Peacetown, down the road from Earth’s Embassy in a building that was almost visible to the naked eye from orbit.

_Parliament enjoys throwing huge gatherings, a chance to show off their harmonious and gregarious culture. And now they can do so as a Federation world. Its bound to be full of pomp and circumstance, with parades and large mass dance displays. I hope it doesn’t overshadow the real meat of the actual peace conference. This is the eighth time the Selay and Anticans have gone to Parliament for a treaty negotiation, and the talks have always broken down into violence, the first time was on my very own ship!_

It there was anything that could break the good mood and joyous atmosphere of the room he had just left, it would be that. He chided himself for casting a sour mental note to his own mood and switched gears back to the reception, thankful that, for just this once, he wasn’t one of the dignitaries involved in any treaty negotiations.

\------

The Embassy lounge, called The Mediterranean, was awash in a riot of colors, the entire room had unexpectedly been decorated by the Parliamentarians in advance of the wedding party’s arrival, with flower bouquets, streamers and ribbons in every size and description. There were even balloons floating freely around the room with helium breathing _bonitos_ fireflies fluttering inside them and giving off light, pulling off the double duty of lighting the room and decorating it. It was more well dressed even then the wedding guests themselves, making Doctor Julian Subatoi Bashir feel a little self-conscious in his standard duty uniform.

A few younger officers were playing a game near the doorway to see how smart the _bonitos_ were, opening the door just as they were approaching to see if they would exit, or change course. They changed course, in fact, the much brighter light in the hallway and the swoosh of the door probably startled them, thereby negating the results of the experiment. But the young officers just kept at it, one young man determined to prove they were intelligent and another wanting to just as desperately prove that they were not. A senior officer quickly shooed them away from the door to find their seats when he entered.

Julian was sure that they would be back. He had been watching the group amusedly for awhile, but now found himself searching for a seat, unsure as to which group of people he wanted to sit and talk with for the whole night. The wedding party and their closest friends chose the largest round table near the big balcony that opened into a view of the starlit city. 

It was a breathtaking spot, and Julian decided it would be worth the awkwardness sitting with the bridal party. The low domed architecture of the Parliament skyline created very pleasing shapes for the eyes to follow, and lead the gaze naturally to the big semi-sphere of Parliament’s capitol building, a massive white stone structure that looked almost like it was part of the Parliament landscape. It was a work of engineering genius, and Julian found his eyes rolling along it as he approached the bridegroom’s table. It was already full, the command staff and a few other friends of the bridegroom from the crew, such as Reginald Barclay and the pretty date of Geordi LaForge. Julian turned to find a new seat elsewhere, only to hear his name called.

“Doctor, will you sit with us?”

“Yeah, Doc, you’re with us!” enthused Geordi.

Data was pointing to Captain Picard’s chair beside him, which the Captain had abandoned to go give instructions to the kitchen staff as to the food preparation. Bashir was feeling himself a little caught off guard. Why didn’t he want to sit with them? He couldn’t place a name on this feeling of awkwardness, but he was on Parliament, a place of compromises, and so he did. He quickly sat in the offered chair between Commander Data and Commander LaForge, whose date, Lieutenant Meryl Anderson, looked awestruck to be sharing a table with the command crew. Rumor had it that their relationship was on the rocks. Julian hoped that this wedding would help respark romance for LaForge and his lady.

“Can I tempt you Doctor?” Beverly Crusher leaned forward, offering a bottle of wine, a lovely Merlot. “Captain Ross sent it down for us from the Destiny.”

Julian cringed a little mentally at the Admiral’s name, knowing he had a meeting with the man and his security detail before the first introductions with the delegates at the Embassy the next morning. He hoped he would actually get to those introductions, Ambassador Els was counting on him not to get drunk tonight. But he accepted Crusher’s offer to pour wine into the empty glass that was in front of him as the others chuckled.

“We’re planning to get you drunk,” Commander Riker teased him. “To learn all your embassy secrets.”

Julian laughed at the joke.

“Don’t worry, I’ll regale you all about the boredom of how healthy Ambassador Els is and her various conditions...the moment she signs the waiver allowing it,” he winked and there was good natured chuckling all around. 

Despite her good health, she had declined to join the evening’s festivities, preferring to save her energy for the negotiations the next day. Julian had almost done the same, but could not turn down Data’s invitation to celebrate the official wedding ceremony, not after all they had been through on Rubicun III.

“Well,” Picard soon rejoined them, huffing as he spotted Julian in his seat. “I guess I’m not wanted here, my seat has been absconded with!”

A huge titter of laughter from the group.

“Um, I can sit elsewhere,” Julian said, eager to find an excuse to leave the well knit group, where he felt a little bit like a third wheel.

“Nonsense, there’s plenty of room for another chair,” said Picard, grabbing a chair from another table to pull over, sitting beside Doctor Crusher pointedly.

 _Rumor has it that those two are lovers,_ Julian thought, but he didn’t want to spread such a rumor, not about a starship’s Captain. Their hands did seem rather close on the table, their gazes lingering just a little as she poured him a drink.

More conversations, more wine, and eventually piano music was filling the air from the keyboard player near the bar. Julian found his attention often focused away from the conversations and onto the rather wonderful music, but he couldn’t see the pianist over the heads of the people at the table, nor the crowds of people milling around near the bar to get drinks.

“I recognize this piece,” said Picard quietly. “Chopin’s _‘Fantaisie-Impromptu"_ , didn’t you perform that recently, Data?”

“Yes,” Data said, shuffling a little in his chair. “I sent a playlist of our most recent concert pieces to the pianist before he beamed down. We thought it would be enjoyable to share our favorite solos and duets with the crew.”

“What a lovely idea Data!” said Deanna Troi.

“Do you know the pianist, Data?” Julian asked eagerly, and the musician in question engaged in a light series of variations that Julian was finding quite interesting.

“His stage name is Songbird,” said Data. “I am not familiar with him personally, per se, but more so his rather...unique...original works. Admiral Ross offered to send him down from the Destiny to play for us, since he himself could not be here…” Data’s head was now tilted up to listen. “What an interesting variation...fascinating...we did give him room to experiment with our choices.”

Songbird. Julian didn’t recognize this performer, but he wasn’t surprised; he was much more familiar with music from Earth’s 20th century, from the eras of the holosuite dramas he played in, he had no idea about the more popular modern music of the here and now. Music had never really taken over his world the way reading and holo adventures had done, but if he had to pick his favorite genre, jazz would be closest. He had always found classical music a little tedious, to be honest, but he didn’t voice this opinion. He had an open mind and was open to the idea of being proven wrong. This musician was really on the verge of doing just that, wrapping a soft lullaby with a more seductive romantic lilt.

“Now there is a combination I would not have expected, _Brahms Lullaby_ and... _Temptation_ ,” Data tilted his head again. “Most intriguing.”

“He is quite talented I’ll give him that,” Picard chuckled and raised a toast to the pianist. “To...Songbird was it? I’ve never heard of him before, I’ll have to do some research on the Enterprise in my spare time.”

“You may find his work quite fascinating Captain, he often combines the songs and sounds of highly disapparate genres and styles, such as his substantive work of merging 21st century Earth electronica music with the Third Era Ferengi vibrational style, a very popular style on Ferenginar…”

“That does sound rather unique,” said Troi. “Ferengi vibrational music is very soothing, relaxing, whereas electronica music is more meant for dancing…”

“Indeed,” Picard did look delighted by the idea. “I’ve heard Ferengi vibrational music played before, but the sounds are mostly high above the hearing range of human beings...”

Songbird was now moving into Bach, a duet for harpsichord and violin, expertly playing the tertiary instruments of viola and bass at a lower octave on his electronic piano, rather than simply picking the harpsichord to interpret. Adapting a multi-instrument piece to keyboards was no small task, even electronically, and this gentleman was doing it well.

“We also agreed that he was permitted to take requests after the dinner toasts were over,” Data was saying. “So be prepared to make...tasteful requests for the dinner and dance.”

Their conversations dragged away from the music to the recent gossip, and Julian chided himself for hanging onto the pianist, who was still being crowded by one last small knot of merrymakers sharing conversations by the bar. He couldn’t help it, the people at his own table were now boringly discussing the colors of the decorations, and Julian learned that Data preferred the very specific color of sky blue, everyone on the Enterprise had been aware of this, but were only now learning of Savil’s preferred choice of green. Julian resigned himself to sharing teal as his favorite color when everyone else started sharing their own. It was no surprise that this boring conversation ended immediately when Data pointed out the food that was now being brought out and laid onto the buffet tables near the doors. Picard quickly rapped his fork on his glass.

“Attention everyone! Before we eat, I should like to give a toast to the bride and groom.”

Cheers erupted from the room, and Picard raised his glass, as did they all. Julian grinned and smiled at Data, whose eyes were now on the Captain.

“I won’t drone on and bore you with a speech, I wish only to say that I am very, very happy to be here, celebrating Data’s wedding. From the moment I met this man, I knew that he was no ordinary man. It is certainly sensible that he be married to no ordinary woman. A toast to two of the most extraordinary people I have ever had the pleasure to know. Cheers!” Everyone clinked their glasses together and took a sip. “And now, the Best Man has prepared a few words.”

“Oh lord, Geordi,” said the man’s date, looking a little exasperated.

“Now now, every tradition must be upheld,” Picard said firmly, with a smile.

“Ahem!” Geordi caught the room’s amused attention, and the Best Man did not disappoint with his uproariously hilarious speech.

He started with an anecdote about a disastrous miscalculation by engineering that had destroyed a weeks worth of the science division’s plant experiments, describing Data’s gallant saving of Savil’s succulents by carrying them on his head and shoulders out of the quickly flooding greenhouses, thus was his first, sudden meeting with Savil regaled to them. And the anecdotes continued into ten forward where Data had ignored his friend’s suggestions to stay professional and had asked Savil to dinner. Geordi had a great fun time chiding the couple their first few faltering attempts at a date in ten forward, glossed entirely over Rubicun III, and then endearingly congratulated them for beating the rest of the _Enterprise_ command crew down the aisle, joking that they were moving at ‘light speed’ towards becoming grandparents, to the laughter of everyone. Finally he went into a more somber toast to the long years of friendship, and that Savil had made the right choice, taking the best man on the Enterprise before anyone else could snatch him up.

“To the man that made me laugh and smile from the moment I met him, and to his lovely lady! Cheers!”

Glasses clinked, and Geordi sat down at last, letting the Maid of Honor give her own droll, but loving, assessment of the pair.

“I’m just a tiny bit jealous he got there first,” Geordi said after Troi’s speech was concluding. “I hope marriage is as contagious as his sense of humor is. You can’t help but be happy when Data smiles.”

Julian was in full agreement, about both. Data had found the love of his life quickly, and had grasped fully at what destiny had offered him, without hesitation.

_If only all humans could be that way._

The toasts and drinks and well wishes were all shared, and Data finally clinked his glass with his fork to give people permission to go to the buffet and fill their plates. Julian took full advantage of this to plan his immediate escape over to the piano near the bar, where the buffet line was forming a half circle, and finally got sight of the amazing pianist whose cheerful instrumental variations on a very mournful Vulcan harp solo were now filling Julian’s head with their unique blend of happiness and sorrow.

_It’s so strange, yet so creative..._

Songbird was young, in his twenties at most, caucasian, and fully throwing himself into the music he was playing, eyes closed, looking almost as if he were in a trance as his body moved back and forth in time with his fingers dancing across the keyboard. He was extremely handsome, reminding Julian immediately of a fallen angel, with a shock of dark brown hair and a cupid’s bow mouth. He was dressed in an all black tight bodysuit, squined in blue and green, the preferred colors of the bride and groom, Julian realized. Songbird’s piano keyboard was trimmed in these colors with decorative paper ribbon, which allowed him to recede into the background a little and not take away the gaze from the guests or worse, the bride. Said piano had a digital display, which was now indicating that playlist, and asking for requests, and tips! He even had a jar!

_Damn, I didn’t bring any latinum slips with me. I wonder if he takes credit..._

Julian found himself staring at the beautiful young man, stuck there for a moment as the line stalled while Lieutenant Jarvis hummed and hawed over what food to select. As if sensing his attention, Songbird’s eyes opened, teal caught brown for a moment, and Julian felt a sudden spark of recognition fill him even as he found himself desperately wishing the line would not move. It took a moment for him to place that feeling of recognition.

_Admiral Ross, yes that’s who he reminds me of...he must be a nephew or a…_

Son. This was Admiral Ross’s son, probably from his first marriage! Julian mentally scrambled to remember the name Ross had told them, searching for the memory of Ross, at some party Sisko had been throwing during the man’s first visit to DS9, relaying to the bored command staff the story about his first wife and her decision to divorce him whilst still pregnant. He hadn’t known he had been a father until the teenager had shown up on a starbase where Ross had been posted, a guitar slung over his shoulder, and introduced himself publicly to the man as his son...Matthew! That was it, Matthew was his name! This had happened on the same day that Ross was promoted to Admiral, the reason for the story at all. It was his ‘Admiral promotion’ story!

_God, that makes Songbird, what? No more than 20, at most? My god, over ten years younger than me! The Admiral’s son! You really like to push your luck don’t you Julian?_

Songbird finally broke their overly long shared look and had now begun playing something else, requested by a crewmember, and Julian was shuffled forward by the line before he was able to make a request. But he was still reeling, he couldn’t even begin to think about what he wanted to hear, and he took only a little tiny bit of both main dishes in order to keep moving the line faster, promising to refill his plate with something more substantive when he had another chance.

And as his unfortunate luck would have it, Barclay had been before him in line, and was waiting for him as he filled his plate, in order to walk with him back to the bridal table. So he was unable to go back to the piano immediately to make his song request, which had popped into his head almost immediately after getting out of line!

“You seem distracted, Doctor,” Barclay said, still highly cheerful and carefully balancing his plates. “Is something wrong? Did you not get to request a song?”

Julian cast one last lingering glance back towards the line by the bar, which once again blocked his view. A million things were wrong now in his mind, and he knew that he wasn’t going to sleep with any sort of peace tonight unless the beautiful young Songbird was by his side when he woke. And he was certain, just by his instincts alone, that Songbird felt the same!

Barclay was still looking at him pointedly with concern. 

“No, nothing is wrong. I can make my song request later. Here, let me help you with your plates before they spill everywhere...”

It was going to be a long night.

\-------

Wedding venues were usually quite routine for Songbird, and he didn’t tend to regret them, as the generous tips he usually received at such events were well worth it. He was of the mind that if people wanted to gift _him_ at another person’s wedding, he wasn’t going to complain, his tip jar was always at the ready for any generous wealthy relative whose favorite song he was willing to play.

But this wedding was boringly overpopulated by Starfleet uniforms, and their only wage was the Federation credit, which took no physical form, and the whole venue and meal was being provided for on Federation credit, a gift to the newlyweds by the three Admirals planetside. Even if he had managed to convince someone to tip him later from their account, they would probably forget his name. He was unlikely to earn anything extra and he planned, quite firmly, to ask his father what he _was_ planning to give him, in return for this mostly free gig.

_It had better be plated in gold and sing like the Six Holy Rings of Betazed, or I am NOT playing the Capitol building tomorrow!_

Mostly the conversation was as boring as he had feared upon spotting so few civilian outfits in the assembly. The crew naturally talked about their missions, their careers, their science and technology based interests. Little of note to catch his ear. At one point the bridal party was sharing their favorite colors with the new couple!

_Or dear sweet lord and lady, if I were the bride and groom, I would be looking for an escape route!_

The groom’s playlist for the night was all the classical music arrangements he and his bride had performed for the crew in the past in recitals as a duet, as well as some solo pieces they had played apart. The post dinner dance offered the possibility for him to play some tasteful music requested by the crew. So there would be no outlandish rock dance-offs, but he did hope that the mostly human crew would dust off their obscure old rock favorites to test him with.

_Or some sweet jazz, the Commander of the Enterprise is a jazz fan..._

Songbird had done his research. He had checked out the musical tastes of the _Enterprise_ crew as he had been waiting for his turn to beam over. But this gig was last minute for him, so he hadn’t known the other three crews had been invited until his arrival at the venue. But one could learn a lot about a crew’s musical tastes from a quick look at the personnel roster. The number and types of races amongst _Enterprise_ ’s crew, for a start, was mostly human, but some Bolians, Vulcans and Trill were also present, a few Bajorans, so it wasn’t entirely human. And if any of them played instruments that could give him a clue as to their tastes, for they often had public performances in the records, Riker played trombone in the lounge on fridays, for example. The bride and groom were in a string quintet, and Captain Picard owned a very rare alien flute that he, Songbird, was distressingly interested in hearing for himself. There were no public recordings of Picard performing, but he owned the instrument, had indicated in his record that he played. Why he had never played in public was the question that Songbird was itching to ask.

_Perhaps I can convince dad into asking the man to send me a recording, that would be a wonderful payment. They’ll be on the planet for awhile for shore leave, he’ll have plenty of chances to ask!_

The Bride and Groom were treated to some loving and hilarious speeches, especially so by the Best Man, a little more droll and reserved on the Maid of Honor’s part, and after all the drinks and cheers and well wishes had ended they finally sent everyone to line up for the buffet. The playlist indicated a Vulcan piece was next, but it was a rather sad piece, so he decided to lighten it up with some cheery variations improvised on the fly, and he adjusted the digital signage on the front of his piano to indicate he was now open to requests.

A momentary feeling of being _watched_ hit him and he looked up, suddenly catching the dark brown eyes of a rather elegant middle eastern man, who he realized had been staring at him from his place in line. A man in science blue, or perhaps medical, especially with _those_ hands, picking away invisible lint from his uniform.

_Oh...hi there…I’m Songbird...What lovely hands you have, I can imagine all the talented things you could do with them...to me..._

He wanted to say this out loud so badly, the other man was devastatingly handsome, boyishly smiling at him, almost eagerly, as if he too wanted to speak something. But neither of them spoke. Songbird had almost lost himself in those dark brown eyes, but he wouldn’t lose the music, breaking the eye contact pointedly as a crewman came over to request a specific symphony, which annoyed him to no end. He’d been playing classical already all night!

The Brown Eyed Man had moved along the line to fill his plate and Songbird found himself watching him out of the corner of his eye, trying to place him from the list of the Enterprise crew...and then sighed and moved into the requested symphony. He overheard the engineer Barclay call him ‘Doctor’ and started to piece together the man’s identity in his mind.

_He’s not the Enterprise, both its doctors are female. He’s not either of Destiny’s doctor’s either, I’ve met them both. Farragut maybe? Cairo only has one Doctor at the moment, a man named Riles, the other is still on Rubicun III. I’ve seen Riles before, but not Gordon, neither name is particularly inspiring a connection to this guy. But he’s at the wedding party’s table, sitting next to the groom, clearly he must be familiar with them. So who is he? He’s not Enterprise or he’d have been on the ship’s records. Unless...?_

A few Bolian pieces were requested, and one Bajoran song from a shy pretty nurse who introduced herself hopefully to him. She couldn’t have been that much younger than him, to have a nursing degree, but she had the eyes of a child. 

_Sorry girl, adults only to rock my casbah, come back later, when you’ve mentally matured and are less drunk!_

Another woman, a very picky girl named Meryl, actually started to flirt with him in front of her boyfriend, the Best Man! Songbird couldn’t blame her, he considered himself quite a catch, but the poor man looked totally stricken by her behavior! She didn't even request a song! Songbird just wanted to smack the woman, she was still blocking his view of the table with the Brown Eyed Mystery Man.Commander LaForge rightfully dragged the woman by the arm away from the line to talk to her outside.

_I severely hope he drops that woman like a hot potato!!_

But soon the crowd of food fetchers had begun departing and he was throwing himself into some wonderful old jazz tunes for people to dance to, mostly Commander Riker’s requests, and some of Troi’s favorite modern pieces from Betazed, whose musical styles had a lot in common with jazz, and so he creatively decided to mix two of the selected songs, earning a smile and thumbs up from the dancing couple right from the dance floor! He hadn’t noticed the man with Brown Eyes approach until he was right beside his piano, awkwardly smiling.

“Well hello again,” said Songbird, priding himself on his confidence and social skills, no matter how devastatingly handsome the other person was. “Have you decided on a song you’d like to hear?”

“It’s a bit sad and really old, but I was wondering if you could give _Towers Of The Empire’s Majesty_ the same light hearted treatment you gave to _T’ral’s Lament_?”

Songbird felt his heart suddenly drop down to his shoes with his metaphoric jaw, before it leapt into his lungs holding his breath hostage at the sound of the man’s voice.

_Damn! He’s British! Who gave him permission to have a British accent?_

“A Cardassian song?” he recovered himself and brought up the sheet music on his piano’s mini display for reference, but he _had_ played this one before, and immediately launched into the familiar rhythms, adding some joyful rises in the chorus where the music should have fallen. “I would not have expected to play a Cardassian song here...”

“I have a Cardassian friend. He only said it was very traditional...a masterpiece.”

“Quite traditional, definitely a masterpiece, but he didn’t tell you? They only really ever play it at funerals,” when the other man’s face suddenly took on a guilty look, he added, “But it’s almost never heard outside of Cardassia anyway. Who would ever recognize it?”

“I will have to have a strong word with Garak when I return to Deep Space Nine.”

Deep Space Nine. That was the last clue he needed. That was the nail in the coffin his heart was laying in. This man was Doctor Julian Bashir, the man his father had been sent here by Starfleet Headquarters to question. He was the medical aide and escort to the Ambassador of Bajor, Els Renora. The whole conference had been severely delayed because they had been over a month late, and the whole reason had been covered up by Starfleet.

_Even Bashir’s records are classified, I didn’t bother to open them when I saw they were marked red. I should have, at least I would have seen his photo, if nothing else._

But Songbird knew well enough about this man and his reputation, just from the sheer buzz around the Embassy. He was _genetically engineered_ , was now a religious icon of sorts on Bajor, and something had happened on the planet Rubicun III that was so serious that it had caused his father to try to block him out of hearing range of his subspace communications with Admiral Nacheyev, a feat which was hard to do. Even now Songbird could hear laughter from the main table over some story about the Groom needing to shave after his only attempt at facial hair had gotten bad reviews. The anecdotes by Commander LaForge had kept them all laughing half the night. He had been forced to suppress his own laughter, he could hear _too_ well for normal people.

_At least LaForge seems to have ditched that snotty girl...but what do I do for Bashir? Its hard to mask a bad choice in songs, even if the song is worthy of several university studies on its beautiful composition._

“Well, Doctor, your friend has good taste in music, I hope nobody is offended to hear a funeral dirge at a wedding.”

“I do wonder if anyone else will recognize it?” Bashir’s eyes automatically looked in the direction of the Bride and Groom’s table, before coming back over to look at him again, still very unhappy.

It was time to fix that. He had just the bandaid for this rather painful cut, and slowly began blending into the rhythms a beautiful old Cardassian love ballad, which wound its way up around the funeral lament and banished it, bringing forth the feeling of rising life and renewal, and the hope of love, and many faces now turned to watch him in approval as he played.

“Maybe they will recognize the Cardassian compositions, they all have very good taste at the bridal table,” Songbird said honestly, smiling impishly as Bashir blushed. The other man’s embarrassment was doing strange things to his imagination. He wanted to see if the rest of him was as adorably red as his face was. “Especially Commander Riker. And the Captain…”

“He would probably recognize Cardassian music, if nobody else,” Bashir admitted. “Captain Picard has a great knowledge of the music of other worlds.”

“He owns a very unique flute, I would love to hear him play,” Songbird said, and hoped that, with any luck, word of mouth would do the job for him in that department.

“I would too, though I haven’t been on the _Enterprise_ long enough to make such a personal request of him…I still...feel…”

“You still feel like an outsider?” Songbird guessed correctly, catching the man’s eyes with his own. “I know how it feels, to be so _different_ from everyone else...it can be so lonely…even with family...who never understood you _before_...and never will even _after_...you’ll always be different...I know how that _feels_.”

Bashir’s eyes caught his, the Cardassian music rising to its final poignant crescendo, and there was a momentary silence, and seriousness, and a question that was unspoken that was being asked with dark brown eyes that were beyond fascinated with the answer. They were almost fearful. The answer was yes, but neither of them needed him to speak it.

“You are not alone here,” Songbird said, finishing the Cardassian piece at last, and noting that nobody else had come over to make a request. He had to return to the playlist. “The Bride is suggesting this may be a good time to end the festivities, Captain Picard just got an urgent message…I can hear them...as if they were right next to me.”

Bashir jerked, and looked over to the table where Picard was rising to his feet hastily, reassuring the couple very quietly that they should continue celebrating, he would go back to the ship alone and take care of it. No ordinary human would have been able to hear them over that distance, even with the laughing and dancing crowd, and the sounds of the music rising from the city beyond the balcony. Parliamentarians were always celebrating.

It was the final evidence that Bashir needed before he bent over the piano to ask.

“How old were you?”

“Three,” Songbird said, and noted the extreme sympathetic look that Bashir was giving him. “I was autistic, and could only say one word, 'songbird', which I had always thought was my name. My Grandmother had called me her little songbird from the moment I was born, and that was what had stuck. I really don't use my own name anymore."

"What is your name?"

"Oh, Matthew Ross-Buxton, but I hate it. My mother was Anne-Marie Buxton.”

Doctor Bashir clearly recognized that name, as his eyes bugged out a little. Who wouldn’t recognize the name? Songbird's mother had been the translator assigned to the Isshisshi First Contact mission that had resulted in over five hundred deaths. There were no witnesses to explain what happened, but his mother had blamed herself for it...and so had Starfleet.

“She never stopped blaming herself for what happened. She decided that someday the Federation would be friends with the Isshisshi, even if it took genetic engineering to do it. She finally lost it after I was diagnosed, and decided there and then that if anybody would be able to speak Isshisshi it would be _her own son_ …She had firmly rejected my musical gifts,” Songbird still, to this day, winced at the memory of his little piano being thrown against a wall and broken into a thousand pieces. “I was a little Songbird in my own world, I loved music, and pianos, and pounding on a keyboard twenty four hours a day making sounds that had no translation. It must have driven her mad. She wanted her son to _talk_ to her, and eventually decided he _would_ talk to her; in every language she couldn’t.”

“Oh my god, that’s a horrible...” Bashir caught himself, then recovered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, it's all right, really,” Songbird laughed. “It _was_ a horrible thing to do to somebody, and I left home as soon as I turned sixteen. It gave my dad a near heart attack when I showed up at his door, she had never told him about me!” Bashir was still rapt with attention, and Songbird felt the need to share everything all at once. “I’ve always been of the opinion that music is the language that every species speaks, so I’ve tried to learn as many musical styles as I can from the worlds whose languages my mother forced me to learn as a child, and many new ones as well. Haven’t quite mastered Isshisshi shakesongs, it is still a little beyond my ken, but if there was any way we could maybe communicate with them, it would be through their music, don’t you think?”

Bashir’s eyes were stunned and staring at him, and then he remembered himself with a laugh.

“Well, I’m inclined to agree. Music brings everyone together. At least those species that _enjoy_ music.”

“Ah! Don’t get me _started_. I recently met the Sheliak Ambassador. I swear she hates _everything_ I play! Even Sheliak music!”

The two of them shared a laugh, and Lieutenant Barclay finally shakingly got up the courage to come over and request a piece of Klingon Opera.

 _"_ D-do you know _qajunpaQ Khaless_?"

"I do," Songbird smiled charmingly at the flustered man, 

“Commander Worf gave me a recording of this Opera when he left, to help me find courage when I struggled to speak,” Barclay told Bashir, whose eyebrows had gone up to his hairline. “I wish he could be here, he should be here, he’s a good friend of Data’s too.”

“I’ll have to act as his proxy while I’m on your ship, and regale you all with some Worf stories that you can tease him about when you see him next,” Julian turned and gave Songbird a little wink.

Songbird nodded and began to sing. Bashir would be back, and he felt his heart crawling back into to his stomach where it usually was when he knew he wasn’t going to wake up alone. He just had to wait a little while longer…and he would call Shavi to warn her not to wait up for him...there was going to be a Doctor in his bed tonight.

Suddenly Captain Picard was rushing onto the dance floor, with the director of the Embassy, who shakily ran over to Songbird and asked him to _stop playing_ the aria, which he did, confused.

“Attention everyone,” Picard could still a room with his voice, not because it was loud, but simply because of his commanding presence. “Starfleet has initiated a Federation wide yellow alert following an incident on Andoria a few hours ago. Now, I know we are far off from Andoria, however we should all be on board our ships and ready to respond should we be called to duty, so I'm afraid the party is over. You can continue celebrating on your ships, of course, but make sure to check in with your commanding officers for further information beforehand. Also note that all four ships will remain in orbit until given instruction on where they will go, thank you.”

“I ask that the _Farragut_ guests proceed to the transporter room first, please and thank you!” called the Embassy’s director, Martin Wavers, a thin and trembling man who looked very much like one of the trailing strings of the _bonitos_ balloons wafting passed his head as he walked back over to the door. “The Embassy does not allow free transporting and we don’t want to crowd the transporter crew with large numbers of people attempting to return to their ships all at once. _Cairo’s_ crew will follow then _Enterprise,_ then _Destiny_."

A flurry of activity followed, and Songbird felt his stomach sink. Maybe he wouldn’t be sharing his bed that night...and then he felt a hand on his arm. It was his Selelvian manager, Shavi, her strict pretty features were severely cross, but not with him he knew, further confirming that he wouldn’t be having a nice long tumble that night with anyone.

“We’re not going back to the _Destiny_ , and I’ve booked us a hotel in the city. Starfleet Brass is kicking non-essential personnel from the Embassy. Do you have any idea what the hell is going on with Andoria?”

“We’re at war with the Dominion,” said Songbird. “What else _could_ it be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dreading this chapter in a way. Introducing one new OC romance was hard enough with Savil, especially with how loved Data is by people. But Songbird? He's going to be very very very vital to the entire plot, if you don't like him I'll probably be very very sad. I've based his singing style off of a few different musicians I love, mostly Mika and Freddie Mercury from Queen. But I wanted him to be naturally talented in music, and the idea was that he was autistic as a child, but used music to communicate, and that his born-with talents were severely overlooked in favour of genetic enhancement. He was also going to have green eyes, but then I saw pictures of the late Barry Jenner, who played Admiral Ross, and his eyes are maybe hazel, or gray, its hard to tell with the pictures of him, so I settled on blue green eyes, its not a colour I see often used for characters and with teal as Bashir's favorite color, it makes it a wonderful choice. :P And was a very last minute choice as I was writing this blurb. I still am not sure if I made a good choice!


	3. Planting Seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed that there are spaces between italicized words and punctuation, I think the software of this site and Google docs are not formatting in a way that allows this. I will not be going back to fix them. But I have fixed the extra line breaks, and will be looking hard at how Google Docs formats things before I post again, see about changing the default settings there.
> 
> I am also now looking for a beta reader. ^^ If you want to see the chapters before everyone else, point out all my terrible grammar and spelling, and help me catch punctuation errors before I become too lazy to fix them, let me know at my email mindthebutterfly AT gmail DOT com
> 
> Thank you!

Admiral Nacheyev sat pensively behind her desk in her quarters, waiting for the communications officer of the _Destiny_ to approve her request to speak to Admiral Ross, but over a private connection. She felt her heart pounding in ways that it hadn’t since she had been a Captain on Cardassia’s border, wondering whether her ship was going to survive the massive trap the Cardassians had lead her into...she had survived, barely, but she wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, she felt as if she had once again been trapped, with no hope of escape.

For one thing, it had been twenty-four hours since the yellow alert had been issued, and she had gotten word that Bashir had been beamed over to the _Destiny_ instead of back up to the _Enterprise_ , and was still there. She really wasn’t sure she wanted to know why he hadn’t been returned to the Ambassador’s designated escort ship, but she knew that Els Renora was once again refusing to perform any Ambassadorial duties without him.

_His rebirth on Rubicun III, in her mind, has solidified his status as haj a kai. But her latest idea..._

Els Renora was going to put forward that Doctor Bashir was the _‘kaj a kai’_ a past Kai who was reborn out of charity for those not yet with the Prophets in the Celestial Temple. It was not unlike the Buddhist belief in the rebirth of a Buddha. According to Captain Picard the _kaj a kai_ was prophesied to succeed the currently seated Kai as the true spiritual leader of Bajor. Said ‘Kai’ was supposed to give her seat up willingly, with grace and wisdom, but Sisko had once told Nacheyev that Kai Wynn, upon becoming Kai, had turned into a viper, grasping onto power deeply with her fangs and coils. She would not hesitate to dump Bashir as her Doctor if she even got a whiff that he threatened her current throne.

 _He would probably be relieved, to be honest. Edo Jesus, Bajoran Buddha...and Bashir an open atheist, he must be_ hating _all of this!_

But Bashir wasn’t the only thing on Nacheyev’s mind. Her bottle of Saurian Brandy, sent over compliments of Guinan, had already been drunk. She hadn’t realized how quickly she had gone through it.

_Waiting for Ross to contact me is like waiting for my next bottle. I swear I’m becoming an alcoholic, an absolute lush!_

But she had good reason to be stressed. Ross was the one who had been informed by HQ of the yellow alert, and had been on the wire with Starfleet Intelligence and Starfleet Security for hours now, getting updated information about the situation on Andoria. All she had been told so far was that they were on yellow alert, Andoria’s power grid had been attacked, there had been a planet wide blackout for all of ten minutes, no casualties, and the motive for the attack, and who had orchestrated it, was still a mystery. It was almost three in the morning now and she was feeling her lack of any sleep for nearly two days seeping up into her droopy eyelids, though her racing thoughts were making her desperate to stay awake at all costs.

When the viewscreen finally bleeped, it caused her to jump from a dozing state, and she noticed the strain and seriousness of the look William Ross gave her when his face appeared.

“Admiral, we need to make this quick. I’m about to pull out of orbit.”

“Admiral!” she countered hotly. “I’ve being bombarded by three different Captains, and Parliament, all of them wanting more information about the ‘blackout’ on Andor,” Nacheyev used finger quotes pointedly. “Since that is all we know! And Saduk is still on the planet trying to convince the Selay and Anticans to be patient, the Ambassador will be there tomorrow. I hope? Will she?”

“Yes, I’ve sent Doctor Bashir back down to the Embassy, and I had to override the head of Starfleet Intelligence to do this,” he shook his head in obvious disgust. “They really have some gall,” he looked like he had been yelling recently, and she was glad it hadn’t been at her. “They wanted to use some obscure medical law as an excuse to hold him in a cell, indefinitely, since they didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him. If Captain Picard and Captain Sisko hadn’t both contacted me about this issue long beforehand I wouldn’t have realized what they were planning. So now I have to go back to Earth to Headquarters to tussle this out with Novos in person.”

“As long as he’ll be at the introductory breakfast this morning, Parliament will be happy,” Nacheyev was both relieved, and severely vexed. They could talk about Bashir’s legal problems later. She was tired of _thinking_ about Bashir. “But what about Andoria?”

“As _Destiny_ will be on its way straight back to Earth, _Cairo_ will be sent to Talar in our place, and then on to Andoria to investigate there. Yellow alert has been cancelled, the perpetrators are well and away, and you can tell the Captains of the other ships they are free to return to the Embassy. All hands stand down.”

“The _Cairo_!?” Nacheyev practically jumped out of her chair. “As if we don’t have hundreds of other ships that are closer to Earth that could respond! Why _Cairo_??”

“The _Persephone_ is already in orbit around Andor investigating the blackout and helping repair the power grid,” Ross said firmly, then added. “And Captain Jellico is the reason for the _Cairo_ being sent. The two incidents at Andoria and Talar space are now being linked by Starfleet Intelligence, and Captain Jellico has a lot of past experience with Captain Morgan.”

Nacheyev was puzzled.

“Captain Morgan is a person I’m going to suppose, and not related to that bottle of rum you gave me for my birthday?”

“You drink too much, Alynna,” Ross said, though he was smiling at her as he confirmed her previous unhappy assessment of herself. “Captain Samuel Morgan is the Starfleet officer that escaped from the Talar prison. I apologize, I should have realized Intelligence wouldn’t have sent you his personnel file, they’re keeping a tight grip on everything right now related to his escape.”

Nacheyev recovered herself. She had to stop being so personally attacked by Ross’s tendency to forget things, he was forgetful because of how much information he was responsible for dealing with on a daily basis. She _never_ wanted to have his job, _never_.

“You mean to tell me that a Federation _citizen_ is responsible for the planet wide blackout of Andoria?”

It wasn’t the Dominion then. But this was even more troubling. A former Starfleet _Captain_ attacking Andoria?

“Yes, I’m sorry Alynna, my mind is wandering and I’m exhausted, I should have said that first,” Ross sat up, looking as tired as he claimed to be. “According to Captain Graham, Morgan and his companion were caught on camera committing a robbery during the black out. Andor’s security cameras have their own built in backups, and continue to run even after a power outage.”

“At least we have that. Do we know what they were after?”

“A cargo bay holding evidence for Starfleet Intelligence,” but Ross looked like he wasn’t at all happy with the explanation. “We think they may have uploaded a virus to Andoria’s power grid and then simply shut it down, which gave them ten minutes to simply walk in and take what they wanted before the system’s backup generators would come online. Their involvement in the blackout is really only conjecture, but it was way too coincidental for the robbery to have happened at the same time if hadn’t been them.”

“So they, shut down Andor’s power systems and robbed Starfleet Intelligence. What exactly did they steal…?”

Ross gave her a look that was so sad, so confused that she could almost guess at his answer before he could speak.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing of importance. The cargo locker they broke into only held the personal belongings of Captain Morgan himself. Starfleet Intelligence had already gone through it, and Admiral Novos had personally locked these items up on Andor and said there was nothing of interest. _Nothing_.”

Silence.

“Nothing? Nothing at all?” Nacheyev felt momentarily helpless.

“Nothing of serious value, nothing that couldn’t be replicated easily. An old VISOR and some personal effects, clothes, and photos, an old wristwatch, a bracelet, nothing else! Thank God nobody died as a result of this blackout because it was _pointless_ Alynna, _pointless_!”

The enormity of this sank into Nacheyev’s heart and she put her hands on her head.

“They blacked out the entire planet, and set Starfleet on a fleet spanning yellow alert, in order to steal some man’s personal knick knacks?” she blanked for a moment, and a momentary rage filled her. “He could have just _asked_ for his belongings back! He was still a legal citizen, if not still a Captain! We would not have sent him back to Talar!”

“There has to be more to it,” Ross gritted his teeth. “HQ hopes he can be made to see reason, we know he won’t be all that sane after ten years in prison, but we know nothing of his female companion, who may be influencing him in some way. We just need to find him…”

“And lock him up in a rubber room with a straight jacket!” there was no real malice in these words, but she was still a little hung over, and wasn’t in a good mood. “I ask you…”

“Alynna, it gets even worse,” Ross shook his head, and she could see the absolute sadness was real, and immediately felt guilty for her behavior. “Morgan...was the reason why we have a treaty with Talar, he is the reason the conflict ended in the first place, because he chose to trade his life for the lives of his crew, which was enough to convince Talar’s leaders to talk to us. He had been awarded several times before his capture, one of the most decorated Captains of his generation. A Federation _hero_ just robbed a cargo bay, God, maybe reignited the conflict with Talar...” Ross collapsed back in his chair. “I hope Jellico will be able to find him. He knew Captain Morgan, and all of his old friends, he might be able to identify the woman, or convince Morgan to turn himself in and just talk to us!”

Alynna sat back in her chair with an indignant huff. Then paused.

“Could this be revenge maybe? For not being extradited from Talar? I can’t even think right now, it still seems pointless...”

“The only other thought I had was that they _wanted_ to cause us trouble…” Ross frowned. “But why?”

“A man escapes from prison, decides he has just had it with us, decides that rules don’t apply to him anymore and then goes on a lawless shopping spree. That is what this is starting to feel like; a _temper tantrum_.”

“A temper tantrum by someone with the technical skills to knock out an entire planet’s power grid, don’t forget that he’s an augment,” Ross dug his fingers into his hair. He was going to go bald if he didn’t stop doing that when he was stressed, she was sure of it. “God, I hope its not revenge, or sour grapes. I hope he’s just mistaken in his citizenship status, maybe Jellico can track him down. Convince him to retire to earth somewhere, stay out of trouble!”

“Good old Jellico, I’ll be sure to remind him to pick his doctor up from Rubicun III before he leaves. It's a long way back to Sector 6 from here.”

“Just leave it to me, I have to talk to him anyways, and you look like you haven’t slept since the wedding.”

“I haven’t! Don’t tell me you did?”

“Well, no,” Ross grinned at her, reminding her briefly of their time together during the Academy. “But you know me, I’m immortal and all that.”

“Oh no you dont! You need sleep too! I’ll tell you what though,” she put her hands on her hips. “I’ll split them with you. You tell Cairo, and Farragut, and I’ll deal with Enterprise and Parliament’s people, and we can both get some sleep tonight.”

He laughed, reminding her once again of his childhood self, the one she had fancied for awhile, but had pushed away in favor of her career.

 _Worst mistake I ever made,_ Nacheyev thought as she shut down her end of the connection and got up to replicate a cup of coffee and grab the hypospray she kept in her satchel for when she drank a little too much. _Beatrice Ross is the luckiest woman in the Federation. I just hope she knows how many women sacrificed themselves on his charms so she could finally catch him and pin him down!_

Picard would need a full explanation, and she wanted to be awake before she described the Morgan situation. She knew he would be cross with her, but she didn’t care. Picard was close to her in age though, and as fate would have it, still unmarried…

_Now I know I’ve been drinking! Come on girl, get it together!_

At this stage in her life, relationships were off the table, no ifs ands or buts about it. She opened the connection again, and contacted the bridge to see if he was still awake.

He was.

_All right Nacheyev, you’re sober and awake, act two must now commence! Lets see if the Bard’s biggest fan has any good advice to give me._

\------

The Embassy lounge was mostly empty when Julian Bashir stumbled into it again at last, feeling the strange Antican meal he had eaten earlier that morning for breakfast starting to come back up on him. The lounge had set up another buffet so that Starfleet officers coming and going could grab a quick meal. A lot of them were on shore leave now as well. Julian severely envied them.

_A salad, seltzer water if they have it, nothing else. God, Antican appetites! I’m surprised they didn’t start carving up the Selay at the same time!_

His nerves could not handle anymore meat, and he knew he wasn’t going to eat at the Selay dinner that night, since Selay food was fatal to other species, so he would need lunch of some kind to keep him through the rest of the day. 

Suppressing his urge to vomit, he requested a glass of seltzer water from the kitchen and took his salad over to a single table near the balcony. A soft breeze was coming in, bringing with it drifting leaves from the trees outside and the sound of a lone voice, singing an Irish love ballad. It was beautiful. And the smell of flowers and their pollen were wafting along in the air. Being on Parliament would always mean being in nature, the Parliamentarians loved their planet’s gentle climate, and allowed it to rain or snow or whatever at will, only using weather controlling technology to prevent heavier rainfall from making a mess of planned parades and celebrations. Peace treaty negotiations were often a reason for rain, unless the parties objected, Parliaments traditionally believed rainbows formed when friendships did.

_It makes you almost want to see it rain, just for the rainbows!_

Julian could smell the freshness of last night’s rain in the air, and wondered how many of the leaves in his bowl had been plucked from the fresh herb and vegetable gardens the chefs kept just outside the embassy kitchen. And speaking of which, a helpful kitchen cook came out with his water, and a little piece of paper from the chef suggesting the _teekan_ tea if his stomach was still upset before nightfall. Parliamentarians were herbal healers for the most part, and preferred preventative disease treatment through eating right, sports and dancing.

_If I hadn’t just been through the worst 24 hours in my life I would be right at home here, they are so much like Bajorans!_

But he just couldn’t relax. 

_First Starfleet Intelligence throws me in a cell and leaves me there after what should have been an ordinary interview about my last mission! No comment as to why, just telling me to wait there. And I waited and waited, for hours!_

Ross had finally come into the brig and apologized and told him it was a mistake and he was going to send a very long and strongly worded complaint to HQ about his unfair treatment, and had beamed him straight down to the Embassy so he could get some sleep, rather than being on active alert with everyone else. _Destiny_ had left immediately after that, and the _Enterprise_ had already beamed down Ambassador Els, their duty to them both having been completed. Commander Data and his new wife were the only other officers that had stayed on the planet. Currently they were on a trip out to Parliament’s beautiful countryside to enjoy the sights and sounds of a local festival, and to study Parliament’s culture.

It was a very romantic idea, and he was severely jealous. But Julian hadn’t really been in a good mood when he woke, so he hadn’t gone looking for them, had simply met up with Ambassador Els in order to beam over to Antica’s own custom designed Embassy building for the Introductory Breakfast.

_God….they actually brought in live animals to carve up! I would have expected Els Renora would be horrified, but she just sat through it like it was no big deal! She certainly can hold her stomach though, I feel like I’ll never be able to look at another plate of Gagh again, and I like Gagh!_

At least he thought he did. He pushed the salad away, no longer able to tolerate _anything_ , and drank the seltzer water, as slowly as he could. He would definitely be trying the suggested tea later, he was certain of it.

_I should just go to the medical bay, but I am finally starting to feel a little calmer now, I just need to relax, enjoy the music..._

Stubbornness killed the Starfleet Officer. The voice outside was now singing in a language he wasn’t familiar with, a quietly hypnotic song that sort of stirred him for a moment into rising. Since lunch was a wash, maybe a walk would help him settle his stomach and his nerves.

The balcony was large and spacious and looked out over the grounds, with a few tables out here for more intimate, and perhaps romantic meetings. The skyline wasn’t the only beautiful view here, beyond the balcony’s edge was the expansive Friendship Gardens, whose walkways connected in elaborate snaking braided paths and arched bridges to the many embassies of the worlds that were represented here. A new walkway was being built now over to what he could recall, from his memory, was the Sheliak building.

A stairwell was leading down the side from the balcony to the gardens, and he took that slowly, following the sound of the voice he had been hearing down onto the soft, well tended grass which was still damp with rain, the leaves of the trees rustling with the slight winds, wafting along the loose pollen of the thousands of flowers planted here in carefully tended beds, whose occupants were looking very happy to have been so recently watered. A long stretch of empty path curved before him, and he paused.

_Where is everyone? They can’t all be having lunch indoors on a beautiful day like this!_

It seemed strange that so few people were out here today, but he wasn’t going to complain about the relatively unexpected amount of privacy in which he would reacquaint himself with his lovely new _friend_.

Of course he knew that the voice he had been hearing was Songbird, who had somehow acquired a tartan blanket and a picnic basket and had laid them out beneath a weeping willow tree that had been planted in the gardens when Earth’s Embassy had first been built. It was tall and in flowering bloom right now, the cornucopia of soft pink petals were a beautiful backdrop for the breathtaking youth.

Songbird was _gorgeous_ , dressed in a pastel yellow sleeveless bodysuit, with part of the tartan blanket wrapped around him and falling away from his bare shoulders. His shock of brown hair was still a mess and he was bent down over a ream of paper, actual _paper_ , with an actual fountain pen in hand and an inkwell by his feet! His hand moved quickly as he inscribed various lines and symbols onto the paper’s surface. The wind had wafted away one of these sheets of paper and Julian picked it up as he approached, looking befuddled for a moment, then awestruck.

Sheet music. Songbird was _composing_ by hand! Blending the Irish folk songs from earlier with the alien song the man was still softly singing, and these notes were being transferred from his voice through his fingers to his pen!

Julian approached slowly, noting that the man was still unaware of his presence, and found himself smiling as the wind floated a tiny loose pink petal right onto the man’s hair without his notice. His attention was totally on his work. Julian was loath to break the silent rapture he was now feeling at having caught the man right in the act of crafting music, but he didn’t have much longer before he had to return to the Ambassador’s suite, another hour at most.

“Hello again,” Julian said quietly and Songbird’s aqua eyes jumped up to catch sight of him, a beatific smile filling his handsome face at once. “You seem to have misplaced a piece of your song here…”

“Oh wonderful!” Songbird accepted the loose sheet gratefully, “I was hoping to see you again, Julian, can I call you Julian? Here have a seat with me…,” he threw the blanket off his shoulders to make more room. “I have some food in the basket, not much, I ate most of it, and there’s a bottle of Bailey’s still on the bottom.”

“Maybe just a little…” Julian passed on the sausages and alcohol, but accepted a bit of cheese and some bread, which was flavored with some mild herbs that Julian recognized as being from Earth, but the cheese was not Earth, he couldn’t place it. “Some very interesting choices here.”

“Thank you, I wanted to stay in the mood I’ve been in since this morning at breakfast. A Tierkran Warlord who is visiting the planet joined us this morning, I wish you had been there! I’ve never heard Tierkran music so I asked him to play something on his pipe, and was immediately inspired to combine the sound with Irish folk music!”

“I need to pay more attention to the comings and goings here, were you eating with the Enterprise crew members down on the planet?”

“No, no, just me and my manager, Shavi, she has a way of making friends with unlikely people, like that Warlord. For her, success is all about making connections.”

“Oh really? Tell me more about your manager, and your music...”

Julian felt he could sit here and stare at Songbird for hours as he animatedly talked about the music business, and his manager’s plans for his career and what the next phase would be. His compositions had only a niche following, mostly on Ferenginar, and this Shavi was encouraging him to break away from these random diplomatic gigs in order to break out onto the night club circuit, and maybe even live concerts. She felt that Songbird’s compositions could reach a much larger audience if he combined them with his own vocals. His genetically enhanced voice was one of his greatest assets, able to sing in so many different languages, and at so many different levels of sound, that he should have had way more fans by now. He was holding himself back.

“I just...don’t want my enhanced voice to hurt my reputation, I guess,” Songbird was saying, his sheet music now forgotten, the pages laid out on the blanket to allow the ink to dry. “I was already making music before I was enhanced, at a very young age, but once people _know_ , well, all my natural talents will be ignored as being a part of my genetics, not something I was born with,” the hurt in the younger man’s eyes pained Julian severely. “But it’s my dream to be on stage somewhere, someday, a big huge theatre on Earth, or the Alzari concert hall on Betazed. Somewhere breathtaking!”

“Creativity can’t be engineered,” Julian said breathlessly, remembering something Miles had said to him once. “Or imagination, or passion,” Songbird looked at him, his soulful eyes seeking an answer to all the usual questions that must have been going through his young head. Julian missed being twenty. “Energy speaks for itself. Show them what you are capable of, fill the galaxy with your songs, and the critics will fall silent.”

“Julian.”

He hadn’t realized he had been leaning closer to the man, until their noses were almost touching. Julian idly was thinking how cute Songbird’s nose was, how he wanted to tweak it. An ink stained hand was reaching up to his neck to touch his face, to thread fingers into his hair, and pull their faces and noses closer, closer…one more breath...and their lips were sealed in silence together.

Like static. It was like a spark, and an electrical connection had formed between them. Soft lips, moist and a hint of a brief sweet taste of alcohol...In this moment no other kiss had seemed so perfect, so complete, so _real._

_The only downside of kissing Songbird is not hearing his beautiful voice singing..._

After a good long moment they broke and came up for air, and their eyes rivalled to answer the question they both had. It ended in a stalemate

“I’m staying with my manager at a hotel in the city,” Songbird complained. “A very _cheap_ hotel, she’s such a skinflint!”

“And I currently live with a centenarian Bajoran Ambassador…who is currently sleeping before her next meeting.”

“You win, I’ll kick Shavi out…”

Julian helped him pack up his basket, wondering if he was even allowed to leave the Embassy, and didn’t care either way. They were soon walking hand in hand towards the transporter terminal, picnic basket in Julian’s other hand and the blanket over Songbird’s shoulder.

“Can I call you Matthew?” Julian asked, and noted the off look Songbird gave him. “I guess not…”

“Only when you’re mad at me...or in the throes of passion,” Songbird teased.

“Say no more,” Julian bent down to kiss him again on the transporter platform and they were beamed to the hotel this way by a very smiling ensign.

It was almost deadly perfect timing. A few moments later, the transporter room exploded with bright scarlet flame.

\------

Shavi could feel her teeth digging firmly into her lip as she watched Songbird pacing silently back and forth in their suite at Friendship’s Reach, which she had considered to be moderately inexpensive but still elegant. He had called it cheap, his personal taste being severely flashy and tending towards highly expensive, so she had appeased him by taking him back to the Embassy for breakfast, Earthers did breakfast right, even if their choice in addictive and fizzy drinks turned most people’s stomachs.

Shavi had happened into an old friend during the walk, Lord Tr’ash’na, who had given into Songbird’s musical curiosity by playing the pipe for him, which had sent Songbird off after breakfast to gathering supplies for writing with. Since he tended to enjoy writing alone, she had returned to the hotel alone and started looking for ways to make their inexpensive rooms a little more comfortable to his own tastes, ensuring that fresh sheets were brought in and fresh flowers for the vases. She knew he liked to take all day composing, and she wanted him to be in a good mood to play at the Selay embassy’s open house and supper.

_Music hath charms, I know Admiral Ross wants his little snake charmer smoothing tensions with a little bit more than just soft music...those lovely all hearing ears of his will hear many things._

It they ever got there. Songbird returned suddenly after lunch with a uniformed Starfleet Doctor in tow, dumped his belongings at her feet, and told her to get out...two seconds before a voice through the Doctor’s combadge suddenly alerted him to an emergency at the Embassy, that there had been an explosion, asking for the Doctor’s status and current location. They were both now waiting for Bashir to come back out of the bathroom; he had first thrown up loudly, and then started a loud conversation with someone else, possibly the Commanding officer of whoever had contacted him. Songbird’s advanced ears would have been able to hear the whole communication regardless of whether the Doctor had yelled, and now he was on the verge of tears.

“Birdling,” Shavi used her pet name for the young man, who came over to her for a hug. “We’re safe here, the civilian sector is under shielding, it was a small explosion, we’ll be fine…”

“S’not fair,” his voice broke and she pulled a tissue from her pocket for his eyes and nose. Humans leaked from unpleasant places when they were emotional. “I waited _over a day_ …”

_So it was this Doctor he met at the wedding...I see...not just a quickie then..._

Since he had run away at the age of sixteen she had been his on again off again career mentor and talent agent, scared off only when Admiral Ross chose to enforce his parental rights to block her access, which had happened so rarely as to be laughable when it did happen, a token gesture at best. In a way, she was more of a parent to the young man than he was. But she never said this, it never needed to be. The Selelvian Knack allowed her to sense some of what people were feeling, and manipulate the will of others if she wanted to, but she had never needed to with Songbird, he had come to her for advice willingly. She could tell by the way he hugged her now, and his frustration, that he trusted her. He really liked this Bashir, and wanted to spend time with him, only him, even if it was just a new crush and not likely to last, he had a definite _need_ to complete this narrative. It was that simple.

“The Embassy doesn’t need me it seems!” Julian Bashir said angrily as he stomped out of the other room. “‘Stay here and be ready to beam out if necessary.’ Bugger them! I’m a Doctor! They need me! The Ambassador needs me! Goddammit!!”

“Julian,” Songbird moved over to him and put his arms around the man to calm him. “Starfleet officers have to eventually learn how very little civilians are really told about a situation. They weren’t going to share things over a public hotel’s communications service. You need to wait.”

Julian Bashir looked down at him stricken and unsure. Shavi wanted to smack some sense and backbone into the man, if you want something done, do it yourself!

“We have a rental car, we can bring you where you need to go,” she said immediately, but the look in his eyes was one she knew, and disliked very much; growing resignation.

“Thank you, but I _was_ ordered to stay put…” and then his mood shifted a little, and he smiled. “Do you think they’ll believe me if I told them I have stomach troubles and I need to beam back up?”

“You _are_ having stomach troubles,” Songbird pointed out, rather rightly annoyed that he wanted to leave. “You threw up right after you learned about the explosion!”

The Starfleet doctor looked immediately embarrassed and Shavi laughed, feeling generous, if only for Songbird’s sake.

“I’ll go have some tea sent up for your stomach. Turn on the local news, relax a little, but don’t do anything _too_ naughty. I don’t want to be the one to have to explain to any arriving starfleet officers why they found you naked in bed when you were supposed to be ready for duty.”

Songbird stuck a tongue out at her and she noted Bashir’s grateful yet suspicious smile as she collected her personal PADD and purse and exited the room.

She would tell the kitchens to make some tea...and then she would start making some calls of her own, to her own contacts on those Starships. What she wanted to know was this; why _wouldn’t_ they beam a Starfleet doctor over to a Federation Embassy to treat the injured? Who set off the explosion? Was there a failed negotiation of some kind behind this explosion or did this have something to do with why _four_ Starships and three Admirals had been brought to Parliament for one fairly minor treaty signing? Selay and Antica were small beans and had done this so many times they barely had any influence on Parliament anymore, they were only notable in that they were still a holdout, a loose thread that the Federation wanted to properly weave into their cloth. They _were_ rather close to Tholia’s border...

She was determined to learn all the details. She didn’t care for politics normally, her business was making industry connections in the music business to get gigs for her client. But anything that was a danger to Songbird’s happiness, and potentially his life, was something she needed to know.

_If Doctor Bashir proves too dangerous a person for him to be with, I will dig out those newly planted seeds of attraction and burn them up, before their roots have a chance to grow together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shavi is like a Mama bear, with claws and teeth and ready to bite, and constantly on the hunt for food to feed her young.
> 
> Long drab speech. I first learned about Selelvians from the Star Trek TNG Novel Strikezone, one of the many I read when I was younger and a new huge fan of Star Trek. I like how Selelvians are called elves by humans because of their appearance, I loved the tragic story of Jaan, and how they used clever little nick names for everything rather than just calling something sedately by its name. Their telepathic gifts are called 'The Knack', they call their worst planetary disease 'The Rot', and Wesley's last name inspired him to be nicknamed 'Orange' after 'Orange Crush'...This made me think of Selelvians as all being like 20th century modern cyberpunk elves who were always 'on trend', fashionistas, musicians and artists. Of course artists need agents. :P End speech.


	4. Delicate Negotiations

Rainfall. It was now raining again on Parliament. No sign of stopping, from the sound of it. The room was warm, and the air was silent with anticipation as Julian waited for the tell-tale sound of footfalls returning down the hallway, the sound of the liquid shower in the bathroom a delicious counterpoint to the rain.

_I hope Shavi returns quickly with my tea, my stomach is feeling worse, if that’s even possible!_

Keeping their hands off of each other had been non-negotiable; they had stripped their clothes off the minute the blonde Selelvian woman was out the door. The act had been gloriously hot and ferocious, with all the heavy pounding roughness that other lovers would not have been able to keep up with, with little effort from two individuals with such strong bodies and such fast thinking and focused brains as theirs. It was almost an hour of this endless recreation before exhaustion caught up with them and they collapsed together on the bed on top of the bedcovers. Neither of them spoke, but a thousand words were being said.

 _So much for Shavi,_ the footfalls passed their door. _Where is she anyway? I think my stomach is the only thing keeping me from joining him in the shower…_

The electric connection between them was stronger, _much_ stronger, than he had anticipated. Too much instinct was involved when Augments slept together, and he had been with another at least once before in his life, so he could tell that this was stronger than the connection with _that_ partner had been. So much so that Julian was sure he would not be willing to leave this planet without having Songbird in his bed several more times, and it would be difficult to satiate this desire with anyone else for a very long while afterwards. It was almost perfection, and every physical thing that other lovers would never be able to give him; a partner with the stamina to keep up with him, for however long he wanted to go, _wherever_ he wanted to go.

Julian’s combadge had not activated once during their play, so he felt no need to get up and collect it from the floor, dressing only in his underclothes and uniform pants, not regretting his choice to use the speedy sonic shower instead. 

_I’ll have a real water bath on the ship when I return, a nice full soak…_

But it was uncannily weird how _Enterprise_ had not contacted him again, for over an hour, and he was suspicious that this silence was not due to a communication blackout, but was exactly what Songbird had hinted it was: a very serious security breach that was too classified to share over a public communications access. Parliament patched all communications to combadges through their security systems, so if they were going to contact Julian, it would not be without Parliament’s consent.

So what was happening? Julian watched Songbird return from the bathroom, re-clothed in his beautiful outfit from before, and chuckled at seeing his useless attempts to cover up his post-sex appearance by donning a peacock blue matching turtleneck. Not the color combination Julian would have chosen, but Songbird seemed to be a more flashy sort of musician, preferring bright colors and sexy skin tight clothing to something more subdued and casual.

“Do you think they’ll know?” Julian teased, knowing by the dark mark on Songbird’s skin peeking up over the neck of the shirt that they probably would not be able to hide their illicit act.

“I doubt Shavi will be fooled, but I do love this shirt with this outfit….” Songbird paused to check the digital clock on the viewscreen on the wall. “A couple hours until dinner still. Where is Shavi anyways? She was only getting tea.”

The door chimed, and Songbird opened it, but it was not only Shavi who came into the room, she was followed by two Starfleet officers; Commander Data and Lieutenant Savil, their arms full with take-away trays loaded with Indian food. Songbird chided Shavi for making the pair help her with the food and Julian jumped up immediately to take the trays from them.

“I apologize for our sudden arrival,” Data said, as they laid out the trays on the tables. “We were ordered to locate you but not use communicators, then to await contact from the _Enterprise_ , and to stay away from the Embassy at all cost.”

“Do you know what happened?” Julian was severely vexed, and Songbird started doling out plates of hot spicy dahl and fluffy white rice to all of them.

“The whole planet is under lockdown,” Shavi said matter-of-factly, taking a plate for herself. “Civilian shields are fully blocking transporters, so you lot will have to wait for them to turn transporters back on, or send a shuttle.” 

“It shouldn’t be much longer now,” Data said, declining the food. Savil accepted a plate of Dahl to try. “I’m afraid I cannot give you any information at this time. Only that nobody was injured, and the Embassy is secure.”

_So Data and Savil know something, but were ordered not to tell us. What...the...hell…?_

Julian wondered with growing frustration how long they would be stuck here waiting for more information as he finally sat down with a plate. He hadn’t realized how hungry he had been until now, and realized it was probably due to throwing up all his previous meals, and all the ‘exercise’ he had just gotten. It was a substantive meal, and thoughtfully Terran, though she had gotten Julian’s race wrong when trying to order food more in line to his cultural needs.

“I thought you were only getting tea?” Songbird teased Shavi as he broke apart a large piece of naan to share with Julian.

“I thought you were going to behave while I was gone,” Shavi countered, and ignored the presence of the other two Starfleet officers completely in favor of pulling up the local news service on the suite’s viewscreen to watch all the local events, including the Embassy lockdown, which was now being reviewed by the local news team.

“Nobody knows who set the bomb, or who the exact target was, but Starfleet is taking steps to ensure that the individual in question remains safely away from the Embassy, putting into question the Federation’s ability to keep this planet and its delegates safe now that Parliament under its domain.”

“As if they weren’t all for it a week ago,” Shavi scoffed. “Did they think they would get a free pass from all the anti-Fed worlds around here?”

Julian was only vaguely putting two and two together when Data’s combadge chirped and Captain Picard’s voice could be heard severely over the side.

“Commander Data, did you find him?”

“Affirmative, Captain, I am here with them _both_.”

“Excellent,” a momentary pause. “Stay with them and go with them to the alternate location when the shuttle arrives. You now have my permission to brief them, and I must emphasize in no uncertain terms that you are not to communicate with anyone but the _Enterprise_ through this line, and not to mention names, or your specific mission parameters, until I tell you to, understood?”

“Understood,” the communication closed, and Data turned to look at the startled trio, now ignoring the sound of the local weather report giving out the forecast of scattered showers and beautiful sunshine for the rest of the week. “You are lucky we found you before anyone else, Mister Ross, and extremely lucky to still be alive. The explosion was to be triggered by Admiral Ross’s DNA pattern on the transporter buffer, and was instead triggered by your own. However the explosion was to be triggered after Admiral Ross beamed down to the planet, not when he beamed up or away from the planet, and so you were not arriving, but leaving, when the explosion occurred.”

“Oh my God,” Songbird hugged himself with his arms, and Shavi put a supportive arm around his shoulders. “And if he _had_ beamed down to the planet today, instead of going back with the _Destiny_ to Earth…”

All of their heads snapped up in sudden alarm when the doorbell chimed again. Data nodded and motioned at Songbird, who shakily moved over to the door.

“Who is it?” Songbird said over the intercom, his voice breathless and almost a shriek.

“Room service! Fresh sheets and towels!”

The voice was barely translated to English from the native tongue. Shavi swore.

“I had fresh sheets brought in before you two arrived, we shouldn’t be getting room service again already.”

“Thank you, we don’t need any right now. Please come again later,” Songbird squeaked out, and quickly locked the door.

Fortunately the ‘maid’ left without further response.

“They may have just been nosy about all the officers here,” said Shavi. “But we should start packing right now.”

“I agree,” Data began to help Savil scan the hotel room for potential secondary emergency escape routes and Songbird and Shavi went into their bedrooms to go pack. Julian looked down at his now empty plate and decided to help by clearing the dishes.

Now the only question was, who had wanted to murder Admiral Ross and why?

_And now that I’ve found Songbird, and been with him, will I ever be able to let him go?_

~~~~~~~~

Commander Data remained mostly silent during the shuttle trip back to the alternative location for the Admiral’s son, that being the new Sheliak embassy building. It was not too far away, but it did not have a transporter yet and the lone delegate was not staying at the new site, but had preferred to stay in their former Embassy building whilst the new location was still under construction. So long as the Sheliak were unaware of the presence of non-Sheliak citizens in their building, they would be none the wiser, but Shavi and Songbird had been sent into the building alone until Starfleet could make arrangements for them to safely travel the planet, with only one Parliament Security officer going with them to act as protection. The transfer of power to Starfleet and the Federation from Parliament’s civilian government had not been completed yet, so it would go unnoticed that a Parliament officer was in the Sheliak embassy, but it would not have passed notice if that officer had been Starfleet.

_So they are safe, for now, and we can return Doctor Bashir in time for the Selay dinner._

Doctor Bashir had shared a very intimate kiss goodbye with the painfully red eyed Songbird before the musician had gone inside, prompting Data to reconsider whether separating them was the right thing to do.

 _I do not believe Doctor Bashir would have had anything to do with the bomb. Firstly, he would not have done such a sloppy coding job connecting the DNA sensor to the bomb and the transporter buffer. But of the Starfleet officers in orbit, only he has a_ personal _motive, that we know of. And foreign worlds would have no reason to target the Admiral directly in such a manner. Admiral Ross only came here to arrest Doctor Bashir, and then decided against it after the fact._

Yes, it was highly unlikely that Doctor Bashir had anything to do with the bomb that had nearly killed him too! And he felt his orders from Starfleet Intelligence were extremely unfair. He also did not think that this was a personal attack on the younger Ross, as the young man had tried to theorize hastily in the car. His claim of his music having upset some delegate the other day, possibly prompting the attack, was rather a reach. Although there had been instances of musicians who elicited a more fatal assessment of their work from their critics, this was not such an instance, and not being Starfleet meant that the only purpose for killing the youth would have to have been personal and vindictive in nature.

_This bomb was placed spontaneously, with the expectation that Admiral Ross would beam down to speak with Doctor Bashir again today after breakfast, and not knowing that Ross had left on the Destiny. Bashir knew. He was on the Destiny just before it left. He would have been told they were leaving, and why. It was him Ross was leaving the planet to go to Earth on behalf of. These charges make no logical sense._

Savil exited the shuttle before Data once they reached the Selay building, and Bashir went inside between them both passed the Selay security officers, looking severely suspicious.

“Will you be joining me?” Bashir said in confusion, as the shuttle left without them.

“No, but the Selay transporters should be available to transport us back to the ship.”

“Oh,” the Doctor blushed for some reason. “I’m sorry your honeymoon was cut off so soon…”

“On the contrary. We’re saving our celebrations for our return to Vulcan,” Data said.

“We’ll be leaving on the _Farragut_ , not on board the _Enterprise_ , so this is our goodbye,” Savil made the Vulcan salute for him, and Data reached out to shake his hand.

Doctor Bashir looked close to crying, even whilst smiling and shaking the proffered hand firmly.

“I was honoured, so honoured to meet you, _both_ of you, and to be there for your wedding. I’m so grateful to you _now_. I only wish that we...”

Data noted his look, and considered for a moment. He considered his next words very carefully before speaking.

“Savil and I decided we were suited to being together not long after our first date. When you find that feeling of needing to be with another, you must not ignore it. I, too, wish we could spend more time with you, but I am comforted in knowing that you may have found the one you are most suited to be with. If that is the case, do not ignore that feeling, but seize what the universe has brought to you, and hold onto it with both hands.”

The moment passed, but Data was certain he could see the sparkle of some strange new inspiration in the look in the Doctor’s eyes, and went to stand with Savil on the transporter pad, looking forward to spending the rest of his life with her.

He was fully convinced that Doctor Bashir was feeling much the same way.

~~~~~

“Absolutely not!!”

Admiral Nacheyev had seen Captain Jean-Luc Picard shouting very rarely in her life, usually in response to something Starfleet was doing wrong, and this time was no exception.

“Are you refusing an order, _Captain_?”

Admiral Novos’s beady eyes reminded her of the tiny black burn marks she had seen on the surface of the Tartalla shipyard windows, where an explosion had sent boiling hot liquid droplets shooting out from a destroyed freighter that nearly killed everyone on board the station. It had been an interesting mission, and Novos was just as blustering and angry as the shipyard commander had been.

“No _Admiral_ , I am refusing to break Federation law!”

“Which law would that be, Captain?”

Nacheyev crossed her fingers under the table, hopefully.

“Laws I helped to pen _myself,_ preventing any man from being taken into custody for the simple circumstance of being constructed by human hands!”

She knew it! She knew he would invoke the ruling of Judge Philippa Louvois.

“We have to protect Starfleet citizens, Captain!” said Novos, proving again to Nacheyev what an idiot he really was. “Augments are dangerous!”

“Doctor Bashir is a Starfleet Citizen, and any attempt to keep him locked up, without evidence of a crime, is a violation of his rights,” Picard continued, getting up to his feet from his place at the conference table. “We have no evidence that he was involved in the bomb, only conjecture of motive by some very tired and frustrated Starfleet Intelligence officers, all due a good shore leave and a trip home for once in their lives!” he slammed his hand on the table as he said this to punctuate the point. She had to agree with him though, Starfleet Intelligence officers rarely got shore leave. “And being the target of past witch hunts, I have full experience with recognizing one when I see it. If you cannot give me orders that are within the law, and within the realm of simple human decency, then I will legally challenge them, fully, and in public.”

“If we aren’t going to lock him up, then Captain, I ask you, what am I supposed to do with him?” Novos huffed, and she knew that the old toad’s frustration was purely bluster. “He’s at the center of every major investigation we have ongoing right now! No there is no evidence that he kidnapped Doctor Lewis Zimmerman, but the man is still missing and Bashir is the only one we’ve found with a motive to want him dead. There is no _evidence_ that he was involved in the explosion, but he is the only one with a motive to harm Admiral Ross! And no evidence that he aided Captain Morgan in his escape from Talar but he had a motive…”

“Wait,” Nacheyev spoke up, finally butting into the conversation forcefully, as Picard looked ready to put him into his place again before he could continue. “What exactly does Doctor Bashir have to do with the Talarian situation, Admiral?”

“Other than the prisoner _also_ being genetically engineered,” Saduk added in, making sure that this point was clearly stated. He rarely spoke, the redoubtable Vulcan being of a mind that actions spoke louder than any words, but when he did speak, it was with severe importance.

_Leave it to him to point out the very severe prejudice on display here._

“Ah, ah, ah, Admiral Ross is the forgetful fellow, isn’t he?” if Novos had a cat, he’d be sitting there with it in his hands, stroking it in a ‘no I expect you to die, Mister Bond’ fashion. “We have run the pictures of the woman who broke Captain Samuel Morgan out of prison through Starfleet records, and identified her as Lieutenant Sala Gabriel, a former friend and lover of Doctor Bashir during his time at Starfleet Academy. Sounds like a _motive_ to me.”

“Being someone’s lover may be a motive, but it does not equal _evidence_ for or against a person’s criminal involvement,” Saduk countered. “We here in the world of science and reason depend upon evidence.”

“Indeed, and getting back to the topic of the explosion...” Picard picked up a PADD, and started getting into it, searching for something he had saved there before handing it over to Nacheyev pointedly. She scanned the report he had given to her, recognizing it, and sighed before she handed it to Saduk. “The report states that Bashir arrived early to the Antican breakfast, before the bomb would have been set, since he had to inspect the Antican food animals before permitting them to be served to the Ambassador. We also know that the bomb was not very well made, and Bashir’s enhancements mean that he would not have done such a deplorable job. We also know…” he said this firmly, with finality. “That the ensign who had been on transporter duty that day has been missing ever since. He was seen in the transporter room before the explosion went off, but there was no evidence he had been there, and no body.”

“Which indicates that he was probably the culprit,” Saduk finished, looking satisfied. “You need to give us more evidence, or Alynna and I will side with Captain Picard if he disobeys your order to arrest Bashir.”

“We can hold him, without evidence, for 30 days,” Novos put in, pointedly. “Starfleet Intelligence is not just going to wait here on Earth for the next potentially dangerous situation to crop up. I’m willing to go to the President over this, who do you think he’ll side with then? With Andoria still lacking proper power?”

Nacheyev felt every spiteful thing she had ever wanted to say to the man slip up into her throat, ready to be flug at him.

“I guess we’re going to find out,” said Saduk before she could speak, turning to look at Captain Picard. “I am certainly keen to know what _Bajor’s_ response is going to be when they learn that Ambassador Els was left without her _haj a kai_ during treaty negotiations between two very hostile peoples because a paranoid Starfleet Admiral wanted to keep an Augment locked up on shoddy evidence. What do you think Captain?”

“The Selay have yet to agree to any part of the treaty,” Picard said, reminding Nacheyev quite firmly why she had never played poker with him. “And the Anticans are trying to rush them with vicious threats and territorial hunting displays, right in front of Ambassador Els. The Ambassador will not sit down with either party to talk, eat, or even socialize casually, unless Bashir is with her. He is as much her _protection_ as her medical aid.”

“Not to mention the full reports he gives us on these closed door negotiations that we otherwise would not be privy to. It would be a shame if those stopped...” Nacheyev didn’t have to say anything else, really, Novos’ face was turning slightly green.

“You can...wait until after the Ambassador leaves Parliament…” Novos relented, but cautiously. “And if you _can_ prove that the missing Ensign was responsible, then I...will cancel the arrest warrant. But I want him under guard at all times, do you hear?”

The screen cut out, and Nacheyev saw Saduk give Picard a look that was distinctly impressed.

“Why are you not yet an admiral?”

“Because Admirals need Captains like me to give them a hard time,” he countered, giving Nacheyev a wink.

“That we do, Captain...that we do.”

~~~~~

Julian Bashir flopped face down onto his bed, and ignoring the other officer in the room stripped off his uniform and crawled under the sheets in his underwear.

Exhausted could not describe the sheer level of tiredness that he was feeling as of this moment, exhausted in body and mind. And he was so very tired of the Selay and the Anticans.

_Thank God its finally over! At least...I didn’t have to eat the Selay food. I just had to dance their strange dances with them and their Antican guests, and listen for almost eight hours as they pretended not to be insulted by the Anticans also not eating their food, though it isn’t fatal to them. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they wanted to go back to war!_

But both worlds were in the defensive position in their cold war right now, and were both feeling the pinch in very real ways. The Anticans needed water and plants to rebuild their receding forests after years of conflict, the Selay needed industrial commodities like fuel, but did not have the resources or technology to go gather them from outside the solar system, not without destroying their own desperately lacking world, and they had been taking what they needed from the Anticans instead, mostly fuel for their ships. So a compromise would have to be reached.

_Ambassador Els really knows her stuff, though, she did her research during all this time, absorbing their cultural practices as if they were her own. I didn’t know she could dance that well! I think the Selay and Anticans were equally impressed!_

And the treaty she penned for them both to look over was equally impressive. Both worlds were orbiting the same sun, they both had long histories, both species having resettled onto different planets in their solar system thousands of years ago when they were still friends after their shared world was destroyed by a different, common enemy. Now their common enemy was hunger, disease, deforestation, and paranoia, and they both had the resources needed to lift each other out of the famine, if they could put aside their differences and agree to it. It had been hard to watch them struggle to finally sign the paper, and agree to lay down arms and start trading. It had been so hard not to _jump_ for joy!

_What a clever idea she had, having both sides host these dinners and meals, reminding the Selay and Anticans that they both have very similar cultures, from their former shared home world, cultures that are at risk of being lost forever by fighting! Maybe they can learn to coexist through their food and dance!_

Songbird would love this idea, he was sure of it. It was all Julian could do not to speak this idea during the dinner since he was Starfleet. He was not permitted to participate in the talking, but he had finally consented to dance when Els suggested it might make the Selay and Anticans less wary of Starfleet if they could see humans in a positive way, participating in their cultural traditions.

Somewhere in the Capital other Starfleet officers were dancing and celebrating at the Federation Ball, but he was not invited. A security officer had come to get him and the Ambassador straight after the dinner to go with them back to the Embassy. The transporter had been removed entirely, and Starships would be in charge of beaming their own personnel here and there, anyone on the world wanting to go somewhere else would have to taxi or walk to a different transporter station. It would have been too long a walk to go to the Ball from here though, even if he had been permitted to go.

 _And I’m not going to the signing celebration at the Embassy lounge. She’ll have to drag me there,_ he thought, knowing he would never get away with it. _I just want to stay where I am and never leave this bed._

Heartsore was the other feeling that was crawling all over his brain and his belly. Heartsore that Songbird, who was supposed to have been playing for the Selay today, had not been there. Heartsore that he was playing at the Federation Ball, and Bashir was not there with him, to dance for him, instead of Selay, to request every solemn dirge he had heard Garak casually mention just so he could see what Songbird could transform it into.

He was heartsore that there was a starfleet officer now assigned to him. In only one word, Picard had very appologetically summed up his situation before promising to fight to get him out of it.

 _Suspect. I can’t go anywhere near Admiral Ross, or his son, because I’m a suspect. Forget that the Admiral hasn’t been here, that I knew he wasn’t here, and that he’s been one of my most vocal supporters against these trumped up charges by Admiral Novos. Forget that I slept with the man’s son. No no no, they have me in a noose because of my_ augmentation _. I am going to always be different. Songbird said it, I will never be understood. Always guilty of something. I may not have a visible Mark of Cain anymore, but its still there, still staining me…_

The security officer he was rooming with was quiet and respectful, not broaching his personal space as he watched Julian try to sleep. Julian eventually flopped over onto his back and asked the man if he could turn off the lights.

“I can see in lower light levels,” said the Vulcan with a firm nod, and his face was very familiar to Julian in some way.

“I see. What is your name?”

“Commander S’vek,” said the Vulcan, looking very uninterested in socialization. “Assigned to Deep Space Nine, Admiral Novos felt that you might feel more willing to cooperate with a member of your crew.”

_S’vek...he seems so familiar...but I have never met him...I’m certain of it..._

“You must have been assigned just after I left. Did you come here on board the _Sentinel_?"

“That is correct,” the Vulcan confirmed, but there was an intriguing look, and an unspoken question in the Vulcan’s eyes. Very few people knew the _Sentinel_ was coming to Parliament in order to escort Ambassador Els back to Bajor after the treaty talks were over. Julian knew. But maybe S’vek was unaware of this fact.

“Commander Data boarded the _Farragut,_ which had last been patrolling Tholia, and they just left, and only _Enterprise_ was still in orbit when you arrived,” Julian said, a yawn stifling under his hand. “You had to have arrived here with the _Sentinel,_ no other ships were assigned to Parliament from near the Bajoran border.”

“A logical deduction, Doctor,” the Vulcan said in compliment.

“So I have another question,” Julian sat up, realizing that sleep would not come any time soon. He had never been able to sleep with somebody watching him. Just having someone come in and look at him was enough to wake him from a deep slumber. “How long ago were you assigned to spy on me?”

“Doctor?” the Vulcan did not deny that he was a spy, but he was intrigued nonetheless.

“It would have taken a long time for the ship to arrive, and you are assigned to the space station, not the _Sentinel_ , so you must have left the station weeks ago to get here. And before I left I overheard Captain Sisko and Constable Odo complaining that they would soon have a new Intelligence officer to deal with. I didn’t recognize you at all and I had already gone over the medical files of new station personnel when I overheard them, so you have to be the new officer they had only just been informed of. I make a point to check the medical files all the new crew coming to the station and assign them to my nurses for intake and physical exams.”

“Another logical train of thought, and a logical course of action. But this is not conclusive proof that I was assigned to investigate you. As a security officer, I could have been reassigned to the _Sentinel_ for simple escort duty,” S’vek’s look was intrigued, the look of a Vulcan unwrapping a logic puzzle and enjoying the privilege of it. 

“Perhaps, but then they assigned you to _guard_ me, and I’m assigned to the _Enterprise_ , not the _Sentinel_ , so you have to be getting your orders from someone who is not Captain Picard. Therefore either an Admiral asked for a third party ship not involved in the bombing investigation to provide security, or you are a Starfleet Intelligence officer with the rank of Commander, who can overrule Captains in the rare instance that they have been assigned full authority by an Admiral to investigate an individual who is a member of the crew that Captain is in Command of. Not Sisko, not while I’m assigned to the Ambassador’s care. Picard, who would have assigned his own officers to escort me if it was a simple matter of security. He also would have assigned a security officer he knew and trusted.”

“An interesting conclusion,” said the Vulcan.

“Further,” Julian sat up, yawned again, and stretched his shoulders back. “You would not be required to share a room with me if you were just guarding me, implying that you are hoping to gain intelligence as well as provide security. It is harder to strike up casual conversation from the other side of a door.”

“A satisfactory and logical assessment Doctor,” the Vulcan concluded. “I am impressed, you would make an acceptable intelligence officer. Yes, I was assigned to investigate your activities just before your left for Bajor. We had not expected that you would be delayed on Rubicun III as long as you were, and I requested the _Sentinel_ transfer once I learned that you had gone missing in your escort mission. The Sentinel was delayed when we stopped along the border to deal with an incursion into Federation space, but arrived only a little behind on schedule.”

“I have one more question, before I kick you out so that I can actually get some sleep. I just can’t sleep with people staring at me, no matter how tired I am.”

The stereotype of Vulcans raising their eyebrows was not a stereotype. He did so again.

“Is Lieutenant Savil related to you in some way?” Julian asked. “You remind me of her.”

That caused the Vulcan’s eyebrows to both raise, highly impressed.

“Your instincts and attention to detail is incredible. She is my twin sister.”

“Why aren’t you with her then?” Julian felt completely useless to debate with the Vulcan now, because he was feeling emotional, and that left him vulnerable when it came to communicating with a Vulcan. “She was just married, you should be on your way to Vulcan to celebrate with her. Isn’t that a tradition?”

“My mission is too critical to replace me with another officer at this junction,” said the Vulcan, not the least bit hiding this from the person his mission was centered around. “I have sent her my congratulations, of course, but as her twin it is traditional to try to avoid too much personal interaction so she will certainly not be inconvenienced by it.”

“I’ve never heard of that, tradition,” Julian admitted. “Twins are a rare birth for Vulcans.”

“It is a tradition that isn’t much spoken of outside of Vulcan,” said S’vek, looking not even the least annoyed, which bothered Julian to no end. “We were raised mostly separately by our parents to prevent us from becoming emotionally attached to one another through the telepathic bond that Vulcan twins are born with. When she was on Vulcan with mother I was off world with father, and vice versa. We rarely interacted.”

“It seems illogical to try to block a bond that has existed between you since birth,” Julian concluded, the last bit of his augment brain finally formulating a proper argument before he ordered off the lights.

If S’vek had any logical counterpoint, he didn’t speak it, simply wished the doctor a good night, reminding him that the treaty signing celebratory breakfast would be only hours away, then turned on his feet and left the room, likely parking himself in the chair outside the bedroom in the main living area, waiting for Julian to wake. 

_So this is the man who is assigned to me...I hope he knows what he’s getting into, I’m not one to just lay down and accept the inevitable, not without a proper fight. Not without defending myself with every advanced synaptic function I have at my disposal. I will not yield my rights...and I will not give up Songbird. I’ll clear my name of this bombing too, I’ve done worse things than kiss an Admiral’s son, but murdering an Admiral isn’t one of them!_

~~~~~~~

_‘Will you marry me?’_

Commander William Riker’s eyes levelled on Deanna Troi’s, holding her hand under the table and completely ignoring the talking of Starfleet personnel around them enjoying the treaty signing farwell breakfast. Last night’s Ball would have been the place to ask her, and he hated himself for his hesitation. But the Federation Ball had been way too big for his purposes, too grandiose and stuffy an affair for such a proposal. Too distracting. This was a difficult thing to do around so many people, even for a Betazoid’s lover.

 _‘Will you marry_ me?’ was the countered offer, and Riker chuckled outright at the implication, and pulled her hand up from under the table to kiss.

_‘Just tell me where and when…’_

Her eyes sparkled and danced, as he secretly slipped the diamond ring on her finger under the table. His telepathy was much better than it had been, and their momentary mental touches were getting easier, more casual, more instinctual.

_‘Betazed, after Mother’s current assignment is over, or she’ll never forgive us…’_

_‘She won’t be the only one,’_ Riker looked around the room at the assembled Starfleet personnel, all of them unknowing as to the marriage proposal occurring in secret between the two officers.

Near the balcony Captain Picard was talking with Admiral Nacheyev, Ambassador Els and Doctor Bashir, being guarded by a Vulcan security officer who was looking distant and a little aloof from the proceedings. 

The charges against Bashir had been dropped, fortunately. Unfortunately the charges had been dropped in favor of having Doctor Bashir followed wherever the hell he went. Ensign Sawhee had not been found and no further information could be gleaned from the mess of the transporter logs and witness testimony. Not enough evidence either way. Riker wanted to throw something but decided to just kiss Troi’s hand again, this time with the ring on her finger, hoping she could forgive him for breaking their mental connection.

“Will….”

“I’m sorry, Deanna, it’s been on my mind,” he lowered his voice, because he couldn’t concentrate and speak mentally when he was stressed this way. His one failing. “A man wouldn’t just set a bomb and then almost get killed by it. I agree with Jean-Luc that they’re looking for reasons to arrest him because of his genetic engineering, nothing more or less than that.”

She nodded, and looked back over to the group and her eyes widened and Riker turned his head back just in time to see Admiral Ross’s piano playing son Songbird launch himself at Doctor Bashir and catch him around the neck with his arms for a passionate kiss. The people around them all turned their heads and stared. A bit of laughter filled the air and many people stopped their conversations to watch until the pair broke apart breathlessly.

“Marry me.”

Riker did a double take. Was he hearing an echo?

“Marry me. Here, now!” the handsome young pianist didn’t let go of the Doctor and kept his fingers knitted into the man’s hair. Riker envied that sort of casual public physicality that he had never been able to risk with Deanna. “Captain Picard can do it, please Captain would you? I just...I just can’t stand the thought...that you’re leaving…”

Songbird’s face was a mess of tears, and blotchy, he didn’t get pretty when he cried like Troi did, and a silent pause filled the startled room as Julian Bashir lifted the younger man’s face and answered him. Bashir’s answer reminded Riker of another man, not too long ago under different circumstances, who Riker, Troi and Laforge were trying to convince of the merits of flying an experimental warp ship in a dangerous and uncertain time in order to meet Vulcans.

“Why not…?”

Great leaps of faith usually were followed by great rewards, and Songbird kissed him heartily again with happy relief that broke all the tension in the room, a lot of people clapping their hands, Picard smiling so widely Riker knew he was holding back a laugh, whilst the Vulcan officer took a few steps back to give them a little more space. Nacheyev looked like she might have an aneurism.

“It looks like Geordi was right, marriage is contagious,” Deanna Troi seemed not the least bit put out that their telepathic engagement was upstaged by the pair. _‘Let them have this. We can tell them all tomorrow…’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you this part of the series was short. I don't anticipate more than one or two more chapters at most before we move onto the main event. Hoo boy, what have I been drinking? Whatever Songbird was drinking, I bet.


	5. Curious Quartet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this interlude part of the series. I hope you enjoyed the fluff and intrigue. The main event is coming up, the major bulk of the story.

Songbird had woken to the sound of Shavi yelling at the Sheliak embassy’s Nausicaan director, Korokot, who was little more than a hired guard. Korokot had bluntly told them to leave before he himself told the Sheliak where they were, and called them cowards for hiding from their enemies. Shavi countered with several very Nausicaan insults to the man’s lack of prowess with weapons, with women, with bathing and hygiene, and promised to very cleanly cut down any chances of his ever improving his prowess with any woman if he so much as squeaked a word to anyone, before telling him that they would be leaving for the treaty signing celebratory breakfast as soon as they were packed, so he needn’t have even bothered talking to them.

Songbird had learned long ago that it was not wise to mess with Shavi, especially for weak minded creatures like Nausicaans who fell under the power of Shavi’s telepathic Knack very easily. Korokot fled their suite with his non-existent tail literally between his legs.

“You can’t leave him with his mind that way,” Songbird teased her, before also fleeing, to the shower. “Starfleet won’t like the Sheliak’s response to a tame Nausicaan.”

“Then Starfleet shouldn’t have hidden us here with the Sheliak!”

After the shower, he dressed very carefully, with Shavi’s help since her taste was less outlandish than his tended to be, and he wanted to both impress people, and have his genuine self on show for the action he was planning to take. On her advice he chose the teal blue bodysuit with the light blue accents, and matching undergarments, which he hoped he have a chance to show Julian later. The Tholian silk socks felt lovely on his freshly washed feet. Silk socks were the only Tholian silk _anything_ he could afford. Yet.

“Are you sure about this?” Shavi queried him.

He’d told her his plans the moment the Shuttle with the Starfleet officers had left them at the Sheliak embassy. It had taken a lot of work to convince her to think about it over night for herself. She had yet to give him her approval, but had not out right refused, which was a good sign.

“It’s a good strategic move; for my music career, and my political one. Bajor is the center of everything right now.”

“Including a major war!”

“Would you accept this idea if I simply said I’m really randy for Julian Bashir’s long beautiful…”

“Matthew!”

“...fingers?” he finished teasingly.

Shavi’s face purpled a little, and then she came down from the teasing with a sigh.

“No, it is strategic, you have nothing else booked after the gig on Starbase 41, and whilst Parliament’s music scene is great if you want to just DJ music for embassy parties, a space station like Deep Space Nine, right near the wormhole. You know I would out right refuse if…if...”

“If this were too dangerous,” he finished for her. “I can compose and create music anywhere, but all my research indicates that Bajor is a green field when it comes to pop culture, a virgin market, with a young audience who was raised in the Occupation and who, for the last five years, has been getting a taste of the musical universe from the people coming and going to the station. It's worth the danger to make my name on Bajor. And Julian makes me happy, so if he agrees, why not?”

“Everything I’ve observed about Bashir so far tells me that he’s controlled by his emotions and his Starfleet duty. He’ll either jump for joy or immediately be suspicious.”

“Let him be suspicious, what’s so bad about wanting a husband with Bajor citizenship?” 

Shavi paused a moment, then nodded. “All right then. I’ll support you. But do you really think he will apply for citizenship?”

“If he ever gets back there, then he will,” Songbird was feeling a little doubt creep into his heart as to how likely it was that Starfleet would let Julian return to Bajor. “That’s what I would do if Starfleet were pinning things on me, find a friendly world to live on where I can entertain until the storm passes. We know he’s being scapegoated for something besides the attempt on my Dad’s life. But Bajor isn’t any part of it, or they wouldn’t let him anywhere near Ambassador Els. So she must be the one thing keeping him out of a cell. And thusly to Bajor he will go...if all goes well.”

“And if you’re wrong, you'll be married to a man in a jail cell on Jaros II!”

“Nah, the Federation sends Augments to allied worlds,” Songbird said, only half jokingly. “I hear Quo’nos is having an amazing musical Renaissance right now…”

Songbird finished brushing his hair free of tangles, then ran his shaking fingers through the rough cut coarsely to shake it up. Wild hair was on brand for him, he was not going to be doing anything off brand in public, marriage proposal notwithstanding. He’d never planned to marry so soon in his life, but it didn’t take being genetically engineered to realize that this man was the catch of the century. And maybe the music news channels would start paying more attention to him if he gave them a scandal like an elopement.

_And, if I’m really honest about it, really really honest, I really am falling in love with him. And he does have lovely fingers...and lovely toes...and lovely eyes…_

He pulled back to look at himself in the full length mirror walls of the room, which was designed to permit Sheliak to see threats from all sides around them, since they could only see in very unique lighting situations. It was a perfect place for Songbird to flaunt himself vainly, giving in to his more shallow instincts before deciding he did look hot, and Julian would appreciate his appearance, even if he turned the proposal down flat.

“All right,” he said, turning to give Shavi a shaky smile. “Wish me luck.”

“You’re going to need it, if you’re marrying Bashir,” Shavi said, looking frustrated, but still resigned. “He’s an Augment too, remember, he won’t be easy to hide things from...and that’s what worries me. It’d be easier to marry the Ambassador if you just want to live on Bajor.”

“Sure thing, she’s a decent old bird,” Songbird hooked onto the joke, and helped Shavi carry their suitcases outside. “She dances pretty good too, I hear!”

“From the rumors coming out of Parliament, she was very close to living on Parliament, and this would have been the worst place to get stranded in the middle of Parliament’s transition to Federation policies. Go where the latinum is, Birdling...” 

“Always,” he replied, and with one last look at himself in their rented shuttle’s window he prepared himself to dazzle the doctor with an emotional hasty proposal, or else he would quite publically fall flat on his face.

~~~~~

Julian Bashir walked nervously next to Songbird across the embassy lawn towards ‘their’ willow tree, unable to keep his eyes off the ruffled hair and beautiful teal eyes of this beautiful young man who had grabbed him not two minutes earlier. He was feeling the weight of his ‘Why not?’ filling him now as they both waited patiently for Captain Picard and the few willing witnesses to follow them out to the place of their coming nuptials.

_This is insane! I just met him. He’s a stranger. We’re ten years apart. I am literally a suspect in his father’s attempted murder!_

He wasn’t naive either. Songbird was an Augment, and he wasn’t just spontaneously asking his new lover to marry him, not without having calculated out the entire scenario probably the entire night beforehand.

Julian wished he had more time to think it through, but all he could come up with was that he was a Doctor assigned to Bajor, whose only outside influence to the music of the universe was Deep Space Nine and Quark’s bar. Quark had a very long standing and currently vacant job offer up for an entertainer and DJ, so even if the concert scene didn’t pan out, Songbird would have a regular paycheck from the bar. Julian made a note to contact the station and make sure Quark didn’t hire anybody until Songbird had a chance to audition, and tried to think through every other potentially important strategic reason for Songbird wanting to marry _him_ , Doctor Julian Subatoi Bashir.

_Damn there’s not much to go on just to marry someone like me. Why else would you get married? Money? I don’t have any. Legal protections? All married citizens are already treated as next of kin, but I have less influence and ability to protect him than his Admiral Dad...and I’ll probably end up in a cell at this rate. It seems to make no sense beyond his musical career. I suppose to Songbird, that is his whole life…but..._

If he were perfectly honest with himself, Julian was personally inclined to marry this beautiful young musician simply to keep this metaphorical ‘perfect catch’ from slipping out of his hands and back into the sea of love like the other dozens of lovers he’d ever had on his hook. Marriage was a legally binding contract, even in the Federation, and it was harder to divorce then to marry unless violence was involved, since he’d have to bring Songbird before a JAG officer, in person, to explain the reasons for the divorce. JAG officers often required a pair undergo marriage counselling before agreeing to a hearing.

_Not yet married, already thinking of divorce. This isn’t going to last! Walk away now…!!_

But other than being stuck with a stranger, a stranger he was still really severely enjoying the company of, he had nothing to lose. And they would have a lot of sex, a LOT of sex, in the meantime.

_God, I’m like a little kid with a tasty lollipop, no, don’t use that metaphor, he practically IS a kid! Way to rob the cradle Julian!_

He was almost startled when they reached the willow tree, still blooming pink petals that floated to the ground around them in the light breeze, and turned to look at Captain Picard as he silenced the giggling group behind them. 

“Well then, this is quite unexpected, and we shall have to be quite brief since the _Sentinel_ is set to leave the planet in less than two hours for Bajor…”

_...Where I fully intend to apply for citizenship the moment I set foot there..._

“So then, if you two are _quite_ sure?” Picard called up the severely short ceremony they had chosen on his PADD, gave both of them an ‘ _Are you insane?_ ’ look, then started. “Dear friends, we’re gathered here to witness the marriage of Doctor Julian Subatoi Bashir, and Matthew Ross-Buxton…If anyone objects to their union, speak now, or hold your peace.”

Songbird tensed, but not because of the bit about holding one’s peace…

_He really is sensitive about his name. I wonder why. I still know so little about him! Am I really going to do this?_

“Do you, Julian, take Matthew to be your husband?”

Teal eyes were looking at him imploringly, and it was only with pure instinct that he replied.

“I do.”

“And do you, Matthew, take Julian to be your husband?”

“I do,” he said it sort of slyly, and Julian gave him a curious look, but could only sense flirtation and attraction in the man’s eyes.

The replicated gold rings were a little bit of an accusation as to how hasty this marriage was, and Julian made a promise then and there that he would save up and buy them real, unreplicatable ones.

“I now pronounce you married. You may kiss.”

“May, June, July, anytime,” Songbird joked and pulled Julian into his arms.

Nothing was like kissing Songbird. The fourth and fifth kisses were the same as the first second and third. But no kiss was the same, it was like tasting a dish, prepared differently, and with different spices, each time prepared by different master chefs. It was never going to get old, if he was absolutely one hundred percent certain of anything else with this marriage, it was that he was never going to lose interest in touching this beautiful young man.

Picard had signed the register, and waited chuckling for them to stop kissing so they could press their thumbs to the thumbpad, and then pass it to Commander Laforge and Shavi to witness. The former was laughing and joked about Julian trying to beat Data at setting a marriage speed record, and the latter was just rolling her eyes.

“Songbird, you will be the death of me. Will you two be able to handle a couple of weeks apart whilst we visit Starbase 41? I don’t fancy cancelling a venue that we’ve already been paid for.”

“We’ll live,” Songbird held Julian’s hand as the rest of the group all walked back to the embassy to catch their various transports. “You still have a little time before you leave, Julian, walk around the gardens with me one last time?”

Julian nodded, though he was clearly aware, as they broke away from the others, that S’vek was still following him. If Songbird was concerned about his shadow, he said nothing, just hooked his hand around Julian’s elbow and leaned on his shoulder. As they walked, awkward silence was the only thing passing between them. Silence, save for their hearts beating loudly in unison, the coming weeks of enforced separation would seem like a lifetime until they were in each other’s arms again.

_What can we say? Where do we go from here?_

Songbird stopped walking at a particularly nice spot in order to break the awkward silence by kissing him. Thus they didn’t see the shadow rising up behind them until it was too late...

~~~~~~~~~

Commander S’vek knew that he was unliked by many, and did not let that stand as a barrier to his success in his duties. His presence may have not been wanted by Doctor Bashir, but it was needed, perhaps not in the way that either of them had intended.

This morning’s breakfast was an easy affair, and should have been an easy end to this trip, with Bajor’s Ambassador and Doctor Bashir sharing a table with the world delegates who had signed the treaty, all of them taking a first taste of Bajor’s cuisine and tolerating the Federation presence in the room. He had kept an eye on the group up until the delegates had formally thanked Bajor for its help and left, then followed Bashir towards the balcony to get some air. With the delegates gone, the solemn mood from earlier broke down into casual conversations from the few people who now still remained on the planet. Commander Riker and Counselor Troi had a private table in the corner, sharing some very interesting looks but not speaking.

_Telepathy. The Terran must have been learning from the Betazoid how to communicate with her._

He turned to watch Bashir in his conversation with the Ambassador and Captain Picard as to how long the treaty would be able to stand with such historically aggressive people, but Els was reassured that they had too much in common to go back to fighting again. Their past tensions had been caused as a result of dwindling resources. If they were sharing resources, there would be nothing to spur on further conflict.

_Hopefully they’ll stop ritualistically hunting each other for food as well…_

But he stepped back and looked away respectfully when Songbird fled his place at his piano to go kiss Doctor Bashir publicly and ask for marriage. He was intrigued by the man’s answer, and was only a little bothered when Captain Picard agreed to officiate. A man who was being suspected of attempted murder should not be marrying the son of his would be victim. Not without a political motive. Any wedding plans should have been postponed until the investigation was closed. It was illogical to be sure. But a few willing witnesses were drawn from the attendant guests, and Songbird decided that the tree outside the safety of the Embassy would be the best place for them to exchange rings.

It then fell upon him to guard the young man and watch the Augment like a hawk whilst this was occurring. He didn’t feel that Julian Bashir was responsible for the bomb, he knew more about this situation perhaps than Admiral Novos did, but due to his current position held his tongue, if Admiral Ross and Novos didn’t share all their secrets with one another, it wasn’t up to him to enlighten them both.

 _Admirals like to keep their secrets,_ Admiral Ross himself had once told him. _And can ruin the career of any man who stood in their path._

After the ceremony, the newlyweds decided to walk, further annoying S’vek and causing him to believe that maybe the young man had a death wish. His father’s attacker was still somewhere at large, and would likely strike out at this youth as a way to attack his father from afar.

Of course he was right. It was only his quick Vulcan reflexes that saved the pair as they stopped to kiss near a flower bed as a nearby person passing them melted into amorphous form to attempt to try and engulf them both.

The stun setting of the phaser didn’t knock out the Changeling, but it stopped him in his tracks, allowing Bashir and Songbird to escape the attack. S’vek shouted over combadge for security support before aiming again. The Changeling dodged and dove down a drainage grate before S’vek could fire again and he sent the newly married pair back to the Embassy while he waited for Security personnel to arrive.

“Report!” the Parliament security forces and Starfleet security officers that arrived were all breathing hard from having to run from their various duties, the transporters still alarmingly disabled.

“Changeling infiltrator,” S’vek said matter-of-factly. “It attacked Mister Ross and Doctor Bashir before fleeing down into the sewer system.”

A city wide watch on the sewer system would be implemented, but he knew the creature had escaped, probably for good this time, and hastened to rejoin his charges back at the Embassy.

The newlyweds were sharing a longing tearful kiss goodbye in the breakfast lounge when he arrived, and Captain Picard approached him immediately.

“We double checked the security on the transporter pads, but just in case, we’ll be taking Songbird back up to the _Enterprise_ using the ship’s transport system instead of Parliament’s,” Captain Picard told S’vek, and added. “I hope that Starfleet Intelligence sees from this incident that Bashir is innocent.”

“Of the explosion, yes, we can be pretty certain about that,” S’vek said, noting the glare Bashir levelled at him at this comment. “We’ll have to see how the rest of my investigation pans out with regards to the other charges against him.”

Picard’s face was grim, and not the least bit happy, but S’vek knew that the man was also opposed to this investigation. Starfleet Intelligence had a different method of doing things than Captains did. But with the safety of the whole Federation at stake, not just one man, Captains had to be overwhelmingly fair and open minded in all their actions, and to be willing to compromise.

S’vek, on the other hand, had a missing person and a man at large who may both have been missing due to the man he was now charged with guarding. His instincts were telling him Bashir was hiding something, but maybe not what everyone thought that he was. Doctor Bashir certainly had connections to other Augments, but what sort of connections were up to him to discover. If they were benign, so be it, but if they weren’t...

The tear stained face of Songbird stuck in his mind as they both sparkled out of existence back to the _Sentinal_. It was a fast romance, in his opinion, the kind which humans called a ‘flash in the pan’ that would not last. But he was also Starfleet Intelligence. A spy. And his strategic mind was putting several threads together as he calculated the chances that Songbird was making this less as a romance decision, and more as a decision intended to cause a political heart attack across the quadrant.

 _Is Songbird a spy for Ross?_ S’vek was almost entirely certain of it. _What strategic importance would there be to having a secret spy living on Deep Space Nine?_

It depended on who was asking, since spies did tend to keep their status secret most of the time, except in rare circumstances like his own. Since Admiral Ross had incredibly good reasons to want to spy on Bajor and the border, S’vek was quite happy to play the red herring ‘visible’ spy if this was the case, but he wasn’t so sure this was. And if it wasn’t the case, and Songbird was simply throwing himself at Bashir for no reason, then finding the truth about the Doctor was possibly the most important thing the Vulcan intelligence officer could hope to achieve.

~~~~~~~~~~

_Ka-thunk...Ka-thunk...Ka-thunk...Ka-thunk…_

The Andorian freighter’s engines were turning over in a steady rhythm as the sturdy little ship made its way slowly and quietly through the stars. Sala Gabriel was somewhere up front at the ship’s cockpit, watching out for trouble and keeping them on course. But from back here in the hold, sitting next to their stolen Starfleet shuttlecraft, Samuel Morgan still had a lot of work and resting to do before their arrival at their destination; Earth.

 _So much more still to do, but not without a respite here and there. A_ brief _trip home..._

In front of him on the storage container he was using as a table, his old wristwatch was sitting face up, staring back at him in accusation. Next to it was the friendship bracelet, woven hemp and cotton bands and the flat carved flame shaped mahogany bead, a token of friendship which reminded him of a beach on Risa where he and said friend had once displayed their _Horga'hns_ proudly for the passing Risan ladies. The sentimentality of the moment was broken by the harsh reminder as to where his old friend was now currently located.

 _No more,_ he lifted the bracelet to look at for a moment and wrapped it around his wrist where the flat bead felt warm on his skin. _Until you are free again, my friend, and we are comrades once more, I will not stop, I will not break my stride, I will continue unwavering._

The flat spudger was little more than a piece of shaped metal, primitive in comparison to modern tools, but he never touched a vintage piece without using the tools intended to repair said item. It was nostalgic in a way, giving him a brief insight as to how the people of the 21st century thought, what they felt, the way they approached their belongings to repair them gave a great deal of insight as to their thought processes. The back of the watch popped up readily, revealing what was inside.

It was notable that, besides the lack of watch battery, the watch was still mostly intact. In place of the battery was a tiny microchip, and it was this that he pulled up with tiny tweezers to examine carefully. It was intact. It hadn’t been damaged. He was certain it hadn’t even been accessed by anyone else, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

 _Admiral Nakamura will want these pictures, safe and sound, in his hands,_ Morgan thought to himself. _I shall need some things from_ him _as well…_

He put the chip into the access of the simple PADD he had next to him and accessed the files within, reminding himself in disgust that these pictures would get him quite far with the _eternally_ untrustworthy older gentleman. The seedy dives, the bars, the _brothels_ and the people this Admiral had met would be of interest to many many people, he was sure, inside the Federation _and_ outside of it.

_I’m sure he would pay my weight in liquid latinum to get rid of these pictures. But I have much better things I would like to acquire from this man. It will take time to get all the pieces in place but…_

He looked back down at his watch, and a sparkle of something like inspiration filled his eyes.

_With any luck, this will be the perfect way in which to achieve my ultimate goal. I just need to put a little bit of pressure on Nakamura, do a little bit of coding, a bit of legwork, and soon all the pieces will fall perfectly into place._

Around him the thumping of the engines and the moaning and creaking of the freighter’s hull was almost comforting, a reminder of the past, of ten years before, when his own ship was a humming throbbing force of change in the universe.

_Not much longer now, soon I will shine a black light upon the Federation, revealing the dark stains and secrets that only Ultraviolet can see. The fire will be ignited within the hearts of my Brothers once more. Soon we shall rise from the ashes, and take our rightful place in the universe. Soon..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part of this series will be really the meat of everything. A lot of this is backstory. My story originally started with Bashir returning to DS9 with news of his marriage and all this stuff in these first two parts happening in the past. I just felt like writing it all out first and you guys got to read it. I do think a lot of things I had planned for later actually ended up in these stories as well, which kind of helps in some ways, doesn't in others. I hope you guys enjoyed this brief romantic piece before the major jump in the action that is going to come. Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> I tried very hard not to love this story, but I do, and want it to keep going. It would have been easier to hate it and stop at what I had already done. But it would have been upsetting to leave it unfinished, with so much untold story still ahead. This part is less a part and more of an interlude. Or a bridge between action sections, and I finally get into some slash romance, which is what I am most comfortable writing. O_o


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